Full Metal Berserker
by JubeiYagyuSama
Summary: A Black Swordsman, cursed to wander the land and destroy demons finds himself transported to a world of Sins, and alchemy. A strange crossover. Rated M for gore and violence. AU, Based vaguely on the Manga.
1. Brigands

It was far too big to be called a sword.

Too heavy, too thick, and far too rough, it was more like a heap of raw iron...

It had its own beauty, in a way. Looking at it while it was still, or being carried on its owner's back, you couldn't really appreciate it. It was just a piece of metal, far too massive for any practical use.

But when it was in motion...

Well. That was a different matter.

GLTCH!

The first bandit lost his head, from the jaw up.

KRAK...

As the tall man caught the blade in his ribs, and they splintered as it ground through, spraying a tidal wave of red on the third bandit...

SSSSSSKKKKTTT...

As the last one tried to dodge right, and ended up catching the line of the swing on his side, and losing a diagonal chunk which included his arm, and the left side of his face.

And the sword stopped. The immense blade, with all of its momentum focused on cutting LEFT, stopped.

Paused.

And then arced RIGHT.

And the brigand in light armor, with the two knives... The one who had hung back, and leaped at the Swordsman in midswing, planning to get inside his reach and take him apart...

SPLORSH.

He didn't have a second to scream, before the sword caught him at the hip, and tore through his body like a bolt from a ballista, scattering his entrails across the dirt.

Leaving one, one with a crossbow, the first one that had demanded money, and the girl, and then let loose his men when the traveller had only smiled.

One man, wondering how his brothers had died, in less time than it takes to draw in a breath.

The swordsman looked up, and his teeth were tight in a grin, his single eye staring with the pupil a pinpoint. Then he charged. Sword out in front of him, a wordless cry bellowing from his lungs, he charged…

The crossbow bolt took him in the side, he barely noticed, focusing everything he had in reaching the bandit, getting there before the bandit could finish cranking the crossbow up again, and bringing the sword around one. More. Time.

At the last second, the man dropped the crossbow and tried to flee. Five seconds too late.

SKRUNCH!

And then there was nothing.

The swordsman leaned on his blade, panting slightly. One hand reached to the seam in the armor where the crossbow bolt had slipped through, and pulled. There was a spurt of blood, and he gritted his teeth for a second, then the bolt was out. He snapped it between his fingers, considered it with his single remaining eye, and dropped it on the remains of the last bandit.

"You're slipping, Guts!" Came a high, shrill voice from behind his head.

Guts, the Black Swordsman, reached his right hand up behind his ear, and flicked. There was resistance against his finger for a second, then squeaking wail, and the sound of a small creature knocked into the bushes across the road.

"Thought I told you to watch Caska, Elf?"

His voice was gruff, and deep.

Rustle, rustle. "Pleh!" A tiny, turnip-sized head popped out of the bushes, and blinked large bluish eyes. "She's fine, I put her rope around a tree. It'll take a while before she undoes that. I saw you get hit, and wanted to make sure I was there if it was serious…"

Guts chuckled, and rubbed his side. "Small fry like this? Don't make me laugh." He tried chuckling, and frowned. The wound was deeper then he'd thought.

"Well yeah, considering all you've been up against…" The elf hovered out of the bushes, on buglike wings. Its body was nude, greenish, and genderless. He flitted over to the standing swordsman, and settled on Guts' shoulder.

For all of three seconds.

Then Guts casually reached up, grabbed him by the legs, and thumped him against his side. The small elf shrieked, as a cloud of glittering, pollen-like dust burst from him, and settled over Guts.

"AAAAAAAaaauuyou could give me some warning, you know!"

"Relax." Guts let go of the upside-down sprite's legs, and started walking as the tiny creature fluttered desperately to avoid landing on his head.

"Relax, you say? Pfah! You always get torn up, and you're always turning to me for healing… How the hell did you last before I showed up, that's what I'd like to know?"

"Bled a lot. Rested and healed. Don't have time for that now, elf."

He felt his side as he went. Only a slight twinge, and his fingers encountered newly-knitted skin. Satisfied, he refastened his armor over the seam, and made a note to recheck it when they'd stopped for the night. Then he frowned, the elf was babbling again.

"….uck."

Guts glanced around, his eye tracking the flitting green creature. "What was that?"

"I said, it's Puck. Not elf, not sprite, not 'Hey, You!' It's PUCK, dammit!"

"I know."

"Then- why- you… Ooooh! I ought to…" Puck stopped, mid-rant. Guts had stopped, still and quiet.

"What's wrong?"

The Black Swordsman was looking down. At a loose rope, lying at the base of a tree. "This where you left her?"

"Oh no…"

The ends of the rope were frayed. It was old, and by the looks of it, she had chewed herself free. "Guts, I.. I'm sorry, I thought it'd hold…"

"Skip it. Come on, she can't be far." Guts was already jogging into the woods, sword sheathed in its harness, both arms pumping as he ran. "Move, elf! It's nearly night!"

Puck's eyes went wide. For a few minutes, he'd forgotten… Forgotten the Swordsman's brand and the curse that came with it.

Caska had an identical brand.

And it was almost nightfall.


	2. Caska, and Company

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Though, I would appreciate any and all reviews…**

The Swordsman's boots pounded against the ground of the forest, scattering snow and dead leaves as he went. He turned his head back and forth, hunting with his single eye as he rushed through the quiet of the snowbound trees.

Overhead, Puck flew by in a green blur. The opposite of Guts' implacable straightforward motion, the tiny sprite zig-zagged back and forth, peering in bushes and flying up to spy from above.

"This is bad. This is really bad! Stupid sun!" Puck howled at the red disk, sinking below the western hills. "Stay up! Just a little longer…"

The sun didn't stop, sinking until it was a bare sliver across the highest mountain. "Oooooohhhh…" Puck whined.

Then something else caught his eye. A large, black mass, spreading through the snowtopped trees, making noise as it went. Loud noises. Metal noises. Voices talking to each other, as they marched. "An army?" Mused Puck.

He flew in for a closer look, and his blue eyes widened. "Oh no. No, this is bad…"

Puck zoomed away, screaming as he went. "GUTS! HE'S COME BACK! HE'S BACK, AND HE BROUGHT FRIENDS!"

And far below the tiny green streak of the elf's wake, a beautiful young man in white, featherlike armor looked up and smiled. His hair was white as the snow around him, and he rode a white horse.

He smiled. And motioned the host forward, toward the direction of Puck's fading trail.

And Hell followed after him…

Puck found him crouched at the edge of a frozen lake, still as death. He was half-crouched, with his right arm extended out, reaching out… Reaching toward the woman slumped in the middle of the ice.

She had brown skin, and black hair, and was wearing a ragged dress of roughspun cloth. Though it was cold and she was shivering, she pushed herself out farther onto the ice, ignoring the creaking sounds it made as she went.

"Ba!" She yelled at Guts, her voice full of idiocy, and her expression full of fear and resentment.

She was Caska. Poor, mad Caska.

_She falls in, she's likely dead._ Thought Guts. _Even if I can get to her in time before she drowns, it's too cold. She'll likely get lung-rot…_

The ice creaked, louder. He could see a fine line of cracks spreading out from where she was sitting…

His outstretched hand flexed. Clenched into a fist.

_Can't let her die!_

In a smooth motion, he stood up, started out onto the ice as Caska squealed and floundered to get away, and there was a CRACK!

And Puck swooped out of the sky, wailing "GUTSGUTSGUTSGUTSGUTS-OOF!" As he slammed into Caska, sending her spinning across the ice toward the Swordsman, himself flipping over and skidding several times before slamming into a snowbank!

Guts caught her up, and pulled her away as the ice crackled, and threw her back on shore. Before she could struggle, he grabbed her hands and held on, as she wailed in fear. His eye shut, he let her go on for a moment, breathing hard to calm himself down.

She was safe. Safe. That's all that mattered.

He looked over at the snowbank, and the small green legs, kicking feebly out of it. "Hey. You did…good. Thanks, Puck."

"Hoof!" The little sprite pulled himself out, and shook the snow off of his turnip-sized head. "R-really? Wow! Coming from you, that means…"

The Swordsman wasn't listening. He grimaced, as Caska shuddered, and stopped struggling. He shifted his right hand to the back of his neck, as pain flickered down his spine. He held it there a second, then looked at the blood on his palm.

Then he looked down at the dark stain spreading on Caska's dress, and nodded, his face stone.

The Brands were bleeding. Something was near.

"Guts? Guts… Oh. Right. WA! This is no time to be sitting here! He's coming!"

"Already?" Guts asked, mopping the blood on his trousers. It hadn't been that long since the last confrontation on the field of swords. The start of it… and the interruption by Zodd.

He didn't wait for the answer, as his teeth spread into a tight, clenched grin.

"Good."

He pushed Caska toward Puck, and flipped his cloak back. With a whispering of cables and gears, his metal left arm whipped over to his back, and drew the massive sword from its harness. He brought it around, cape billowing in the wind, and settled into a two-handed grip, as the first snowflakes started to whip down around him, a black mass of leather and iron in the white.

"Let's finish this!" He bellowed…

"GRIFFITH!"

And from across the lake, mounted figures road out of the trees, and started forward…


	3. Griffith's Gambit

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Thanks for the reviews! Bear with me, the crossover part of this story won't happen for another chapter or so, I need to set the stage a bit more first…**

There were twelve in the first wave, twelve armored horsemen that split neatly around the lake, sending up sprays of snow as they came. And behind them, a figure all in white...

His eye narrowed, and his hatred polarized as time slowed… _They must be human, or they wouldn't have come around the lake. They would've charged right through. What is Griffith playing at?_

Still, he knew how to deal with soldiers. He whipped the sword back into its sheath, and from his belt, he pulled out a box of cable and metal, and set it into the mechanism of his metal arm…

Hargin rode for all he was worth. "Easy money!" he shouted to Zarek, alongside him. "Just one man, that's all."

Zarek shouted back, "Don't get cocky! I heard of this guy, the hundred-man killer."

"Yeah, but those Chuder idiots were on foot, we're mounted! Besides, they weren't really knights…"

And then there was little time for discussion, as they began to round the lake. He lowered his lance, and set it against his side, as the shield came up. Four-hundred pounds of man and metal on horseback, his lance could pierce armor like an arrow through laundry on a drying line. And now it was pointing straight at the big man in the black clothes and armor, who was pointing his arm back. The bastard was grinning as he grabbed his left arm with his right, and started to turn his arm in a circular motion…

There was something on his arm, Hargin realized. "What's he-" There was a CRASH from next to him, and he whipped his head around, to see Zarek and his horse sprawled on the snow, shot through with a dozen bolts. Some had gone through the weak points, the slits in Zarek's armor. Others had ricocheted off. Still more had pierced his horse, which screamed and bled into the white, white snow… And then he galloped past, and his helm hid the sight of poor, dead Zarek from view.

He looked back at the Swordsman, fifty feet away. Forty… _It's a bow!_ He realized_. Some kind of crossbow… He's turning a crank on the side, and…_ Fip, fip, fip… He saw the black streaks going by him, and heard the whip of air as the bolts sped by his head.

Thirty feet… And for a second, Hargin thought he'd make it. He set his lance, and then he saw the streak of grey approaching him, filling his vision through the eyeslit in his helm…

And then there was nothing for Hargin, not any longer.

Horses screamed and died as they thrashed, and the snow around the lake was turned into an abattoir of blood, twitching horses, and dying men.

Guts lowered his arm, and took his hand away from the autocrossbow attached to it. It was the work of the same smith who had forged his armor and sword. It had unusual stopping power, deadly accuracy, and could spit bolts out at a tremendous rate.

It was nearly useless against his true enemies. But it was good for weeding out the small fry.

Glaring at the white figure across the lake, he pulled out a new box of bolts and slammed it into the crossbow. With a KLIK-KLATCH the deadly little weapon loaded, the curved metal of the bow setting to the ready position.

He spared a glance back at Puck, who was busily tying rope around Caska's waist. "Griffith's up to something. Elf, get her-"

"I know! I know! Out of the way! Working on it!" He finished a final knot, even as the madwoman fussed with it ineffectually, and sobbed. "C'mon Caska! This is no place for you…"

And the last slivers of the sun died below the horizon. Guts started around the lake, spraying bolts at the white horseman as he went. It was long range and the light was bad, but his target almost seemed to glow with an inner illumination, almost a halo…

Fip. Fip. TAK! And the horseman rode gently along to meet Guts, the bolts passing above and by him easily. Occasionally, he'd whip his rapier up and knock one aside, as easily as a kitten batting at string.

Behind Griffith, Guts could hear more people moving through the trees, more metal and shouts. _That's it_, he thought. _He's brought an army with him, the horsemen were just scouts. Well, it doesn't matter! If I can reach him before they show up, it's over. We can end this_…

_All I have to do is get him within my reach…_

He was out of bolts, and he stowed the crossbow, slowing a bit as he did so. When he looked up, the horse and rider were gone!

He stopped. Stared for a second, in the dim light. _A trick? Illusion?_

"GUTS!" It was Puck's voice.

He whipped around, knowing what he'd see, and feeling his throat fill with bile…

Caska. In the horseman's arms, him lifting her up as she stared in wonder at the angelic youth above her.

Puck, lying crumpled in the snow, stretching out his arms toward the couple. He had been batted away like nothing more than an insect.

"No…" Guts whispered. Somehow, Griffith had crossed the distance in no time at all. Passed him silently, and caught up to them at the woodline.

And he'd gotten Caska.

The brand on his neck PULSED, and he felt the liquid warmth flow down onto his back, soaking into his shirt. It pulsed in time with his heartbeat, and he saw Caska whimper as the front of her robe became bloodstained as well. The brands BURNED, as the white youth smiled first at Caska, then at Guts.

"Why are you surprised?" His voice was silver and soft, like the moon if it could talk. Yet somehow, its gentle tones carried across to the Swordsman's ears as if the words were carried on the wind.

But Guts' eye was not on the youth. It was on Caska. Caska, who huddled against the youth, shivering in the cold even as her breast bled from his proximity. Caska, who looked up at his face with a smile, and cooed as he spoke.

After all that he'd done to her. Everything, her mind body and soul broken…

_She still loved him!_

And Guts felt his heartbeat grow, and heard it deafen his ears… thudTHUD. thudTHUD. THUDTHUD. THUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUD-

He was moving then, and the world was turning red, the sword was in his hands but he scarcely felt it as the lake and snow blurred by in stops and starts, his eye caught perfectly on HIM, and the howling that came from his mouth, that was like nothing human…

"GRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFFFFFFFFIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTHHH!"

The men coming out of the treeline paused, fear shooting through their hearts like a freezing wind. Some of the ones at the far edges fled. They were not paid enough to face anything that could make that kind of noise.

It wasn't bravery that held the closest ones to their post, but fear.

Fear as they watched the howling, raging black form race toward their employer.

Fear that held them as Griffith leaped from his horse, carrying the woman with him, and Guts' swing merely cleft the white horse in two.

Fear that paralyzed them as the swordsman burst through the cloven horse, sending its two halves in different directions, spraying him with blood as he tore past and after the running youth.

Fear that made them hold up their shields, and raise their swords as the white youth and the blackfury behind him raced toward their lines.

They watched their doom come, and knew they'd been fools to take the youth's gold.

"God help us all."

"A Berserk…"


	4. Interlude: Honorable Foes

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Mmm, more reviews… Things seem to be going well so far, so I'll keep on writing as I have been.…

Metal chimed on metal, and he rode. The sun had died on the horizon, and the road was clear of any who might see him and panic. Though he had long since passed on feeling emotion over this, fear and alarm spreading in his wake would only hinder his journey.

Then, leathery wings sounded overhead. The dim light hindered the horseman not at all, as he followed the beast's flight with the glowing eye sockets of his helm.

"Zodd. Here?" He mused to himself.

The creature folded its wings and dropped, landing in a thicket of trees not far ahead.

And spurring his steed, the Skull Knight rode after.

It was a man that moved out of the trees. An ugly man, with teeth like tusks and a face that looked chiseled out of gnarled wood. He was big and he was wide, and he wore only a fur loincloth against the cold. An old, curved sword adorned his back, and he moved with strange grace. His eyes were not human.

He was called Nosferatu Zodd. And the Skull Knight knew him well.

They were, after all, the best of enemies. And the Skull Knight's own sword flickered from its sheath, as he set his shield against his body. "Come to see an end to things? I wondered when you would grow bored enough."

The creature's voice was a rumble in response. "Bored? Hardly. Annoyed? Yes."

The Skull Knight reined in his horse. The moon started its slow rise, throwing ghostly white light across his steel-clad form. Not a single bit of flesh was visible under the armor…

"What do you mean?"

Zodd growled, a rumbling that started in his guts and traveled seven feet up before emerging from his clenched teeth. The bushes around the pair rustled as the various nighttime animals ran for their lives.

"The Hawk… Has chosen a path that I do not agree with."

"And so, you have split from him? Decided to seek atonement, after all this time? Do not make me laugh."

Zodd chuckled. "No. But his choice concerns you. Or rather, that human you're shielding."

"…"

"Oh, come now. You brought him out of Hell, did you think I did not notice? And his mate, whatever's left of her. I can't see your game yet, but I know they're important to you."

"And if they are?"

"Well, my Lord plans to collect them. They are the final Sacrifices. With their flesh, his power shall be at its peak."

"And this troubles you?"

Zodd LAUGHED, a bellow that shook the trees, and rattled the Skull Knight's armor. Sharp teeth bared as he grabbed his belly, Zodd shook, muscles flexing in the moonlight. Finally, he straightened up.

"Heh. Of course not. They're his sacrifices, and he has the right. No, I'm troubled by the manner of collection."

"Go on." Said the Skull Knight.

"Had he sent me, I would have finished my duel with the Swordsman. I would have taken his head, after a fight to the death and killed his mate with a quick snap of the neck. But he did NOT send me. He FORBADE me to take part in this." The growl was back, and his eyes flared yellow in the moonlight.

"So how, then? The Swordsman is a great warrior."

Zodd scowled. "Two armies. One of mercenary scum to soften him up, and serve as hosts to the spirits the Brand will draw. The other… of Apostles."

Silence. The Skull Knight tilted his head, considering.

"He will take the Swordsman's mate as a shield, using her to keep himself alive while his army grinds the mortal down. And when he is exhausted…" Zodd shook his head.

"Some would call it a glorious death. Taking two armies to bring one man down…" The Skull Knight's voice echoed.

"Yes. But this way, I am denied the kill." Said Zodd. "I WILL be the one to eat his heart."

"But, if I am to do this… You must keep him from the Hawk until he is ready. And you know what that will require…"

The armored man considered, then sheathed his sword. "I understand what you ask. Very well, when does the Hawk plan his attack?"

Zodd stared.

"Plan?" Said Zodd.

"Why, he started it just a few minutes ago."

And the Skull Knight's head whipped around, to stare at his grinning enemy.

Zodd's form bulged and rippled, as darkness spread from it… It was almost far too fast to follow, as fur and horn rippled out of a form that was suddenly three times its former size, and batlike wings spread to eclipse the moon…

"YOU'D BETTER HURRY." Rumbled Zodd. 

But the Skull Knight was already riding, horse faster than any living steed…

And the horned, fanged head of the monster laughed, its echoes following the rider for miles…


	5. Hell Battle

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. One of my prime concerns is getting the characters right. Let me know if something's off, and I'll do my best to fix it.…

He shattered their front line like a mad bull trampling through a cornfield. 

The sword arced and danced, shearing through armor and flesh alike, spraying blood and entrails in all directions. Dying and broken men screamed, falling in pieces to the ground as the snow steamed away in the wash of hot blood.

The few who stood past the first rush were fighting for their lives, and dying just the same. Their blows could not find their opponent's flesh, grabbing only air as he dodged, or rebounding from his monstrosity of a sword the few times they got close to him.

And the red haze overlaid it all, his anger causing the world to move slowly, so slowly as he cut down the quivering men in his path. This was no battle. It was a slaughter.

There was only one part of the world that moved as fast as he did, and that was the beautiful youth all in white.

Griffith.

With Caska in his arms he was dancing, his feet barely touching the ground as he ran along the lakeside, never once faltering or slipping. He was glancing over his shoulder as he ran, and his face regarded Guts with a perfect eye, and a serene half-smile.

He was smiling. He was smiling!

And worse, when he shifted, Guts could see Caska smiling up at him, once more…

Guts wanted to break that pale face. He wanted to rip out its eyes, shatter that perfect jawline, and feed the bastard his own teeth. He wanted to bruise him, HURT him… 

_KILL_ him.

But first, he had to catch him.

He barely noticed the second wave, spearmen this time. Spears snapped asunder and the line broken, he tore through them.

The third group was crossbowmen, and one managed to land a bolt in his leg. He didn't slow down, and the pain was nothing compared to the anger rushing through him. The third group died, before they had a chance to reload.

The fourth group was more infantry, and one got lucky with a saber, cutting a narrow gash from the side of his face. It bled, but it didn't stop him as he carved them into meat.

The fifth group was cavalry, with bolts jutting from their armor and shambling horses… And Guts stopped. The red haze lifted for a second.

He slowed, and glanced around. And ahead of him, Griffith slowed as well, and turned. And the smile spread, opening his crimson lips and showing perfect white teeth. Realization dawned for Guts.

_I've been lead around in a circle. And those horsemen…_

The living had fled the field, but in the night wisps of fog and shadowy forms were slipping into the bodies of the dead. The curse of his Brand had awakened. The red haze started to fade, to be replaced by sweat, and pain. He wasn't exhausted, not by a long shot, but…

_Is this your plan? Wear me down and kill me yourself? These dead puppets are trouble, but there aren't nearly enough…_ Guts stared at Griffith, as the horsemen rode up beside him, saluting him with their lances and swords. Their forms were shot through with arrows and broken, but they still sung in a horrible cacophony. "Hail, to the Hawk! In death, we serve…"

And from across the lake, there was a reply. "Hail to the Hawk, and Glory to the Godhand! You call, and the Apostles come…"

Dark forms were moving through the trees again. Inhuman forms, shambling, crawling, and slithering. Moonlight shone on claws, scales, fur, teeth and eyes. Many, many teeth and eyes.

For a second, all was still again, as Griffith considered Guts. His eyes shown like lamps, and the pupils contracted against gold. They turned into slits, and Griffith nodded. And that moonlike voice whispered out to the Swordsman's ears again…

"Did you think it would be different? I told you once, humans cannot change their fate."

Guts stared, the anger ebbing out of him. His eye watered, and for a second, he stumbled_. So damn many._ He thought_. How the Hell did he get so damn many… I can make it through the army of the dead, but then there are the demons to kill… And after them all, Griffith… _

_I'm going to die here._ He realized, his eye opening wide. And Griffith smiled.

And it was at that point that Caska cried out, as the demons moved out through and across the lake. Cried out in fear, and huddled in Griffith's arms.

_And she'll die too… _

_No._

_No! _

"NO!"

One hand went down to his leg. Found the arrow in his thigh, and pulled it free. He straightened up, testing his knee as he went. And rising to his full seven-foot height, he stared at Griffith with his good eye before spitting on the ground.

"Griffith?" He asked, shifting the sword around into "Guard" position.

The Youth raised one immaculate eyebrow, while smoothing Caska's cheek. "Hmmm?"

"Kiss my ass."

Griffith's mouth opened into a perfect 'O', before he snapped it shut, and chuckled. "Kill him." He commanded, and the horsemen started forward, the undead infantry rising behind them, and the horrific apostles following in their wake.

_No fate._

The sword worked its carnage on the horsemen, chopping horse and rider alike. The dead felt no pain, but rending their flesh and shattering their bones worked well enough.

_No fate._

He worked his way through the groups once more, collecting bruises, gashes, and near-hits as he spun, cut, and kept moving. A sword this big, he had little time to waste when it was moving. The red haze was long gone from his sight, but he could feel his anger, his hatred and rage building again as Griffith simply kept backing up.

_No fate, but that we make!_

And finally, the dead were gone. And one lone swordsman stood in a circle of demons. Not ten yards from him, the hideous forms of the apostles lolled obscenely, regarding their new feast. Some were no bigger than a grown man. Others were the size of houses, bulging with dripping flesh, extra eyes and arms and tentacles. There were strange insects with the faces of old men, shambling creatures that were all slime and maw, and great furred things with multiple rows of teeth. There were impossible forms in a literally hellish variety of combinations. They laughed and called to each other, wagering on who would be the first to taste his flesh.

They had been human once. That made it worse.

"Not bad, for a mortal." Roared the nearest, a great man-bull with strips of bubbling intestine spilling from its waist. Its dinner, the chewed remnants of a young woman, were visible in its transparent glowing entrails. He pointed a two-fingered, meaty hand at the figure below him. "But that's all you are, just a human. What do you think you can do against-"

The man-bull rocked back on its heels, falling backward as Guts SLAMMED into the creature with fantastic strength! The Swordsman was screaming, a continuous angry roar as the first cut hewed away the creature's pointing hand, the second cut opened his body from waist to throat, and the third cut bit deep into its head. Bull and man screamed alike, as the thing threw him back, sending him crashing into a tall oak at the edge of the clearing! Bones crunched, as he slid down the trunk and fell in a heap…

The man-bull stood up, bloated organs squirting out of its body, as it wobbled, and tried to catch its balance while standing in its own gore with half its head hanging lopsidedly off of its neck. Finally, it reached down and yanked its entrails free with a grunt, letting them fall bloodily to the ground.

It held its head together with its good hand, and looked across the way at the crumpled form of the Swordsman.

"…Huh…Huh…Damn. Not bad at all, not bad. But I'm an apostle, I can survive this. I will regenerate. And you're just a human, that's all… I broke you so eas-"

The man-bull blinked.

Guts was getting to his feet.

Planting the sword in the ground, and using it to pull himself up, the black-armored warrior was moving. Teeth gritted against the grinding of at least two broken ribs, limping, the Swordsman pulled himself up.

And he looked at the man-bull, and spat blood onto the snowy ground.

"You talk too much."

The apostles paused. The monsters simply stopped, staring at this man. Just a human, that's all.

And then he was running across the clearing, and the manbull was bellowing and lashing out with a hooved foot, but the swordsman was already across and past, landing on the ground in pain, arms twisting with the follow-through. 

The Man-bull stood still, as its head fell in pieces from its neck. The towering form SLAMMED to the ground, shaking icicles from the nearby trees.

And Guts stood, as behind him his late opponent shrunk, receding into the withered form of a fat, headless man with one hand missing.

Guts glared out at the horde of apostles with his single eye, clutching his ribs with one hand and leveling his sword with the other.

"Who's. Next?"


	6. Arrival of the Calvary

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. And for those of you wondering how he'd get across to the other world, patience. We're nearly there…**

Femto watched Guts fight.

Long ago, Femto had possessed another name. He had been called Griffith, and he had been merely human as well. A human with a dream, an overwhelming ambition… But a human nonetheless, frail and fragile and filled with weaknesses like compassion, honor… Love… Those things were merely words to him now, burned away in the wash of the Sacrifice. The Sacrifice had ripped away his old body with the lives of those he had once called friends. It had first branded them, then called the demons to devour them. The Band of the Hawk had perished this way, each death adding to the dark power that had built his astral body, the truest picture of his soul. Each death had fuelled its construction, replacing his twisted, tormented flesh with the unnatural essence of the Godhand. No apostle was he, Griffith had gone straight from crippled human to something barely short of God himself, gained from the torment of human souls as the Band of the Hawk died.

All of the Band of the Hawk had perished, save for two…

One of them was curled in his arms right now, eyes never leaving his face. The other was fighting against a horde of demons, struggling like a madman to stay alive. And it was this man that Femto, once Griffith, watched.

Long ago, he had looked upon Guts and seen something within that brutish frame. Something within that barely human soul that would never give up, no matter the odds. Griffith had stood face-to-face with Guts and said at him, over him, "I want you." And it was the truth, plain and simple. Of course Guts wasn't so easily gained, and their duel was legendary among the Band of the Hawk for days to come. He'd nearly lost. If Guts had started the fight uninjured he WOULD have lost. That's all there was to it. But he'd won, and Guts became his strong right arm, his sword pressed into Griffith's duty. That was all Griffith had ever asked of him.

But still...

Griffith had meant something more, when he told Guts he wanted him. Something he never quite admitted to himself while he was human, but that his unbound mind now presented to him in uncaring clarity. He had fallen in love with Guts that day he first saw him. And he'd known instinctively that pressing the case would only drive Guts away. And so, he called him friend, raised him to a Captain of the Hawks, and fought alongside him. He'd laughed with him, drunk with him, spent most of his waking moments with Guts not far from him, and all through it he had hoped that one day, Guts would look back at him with the same raw emotion in his eyes that Griffith felt every moment of every day. And then… Then, he would finally have someone with which he could share his dream. Even the highest glittering dream, the greatest castle of ambition is not enough if you are alone. Not for any human. And Griffith had only ever found one that he could love…

Guts had never looked back at him, not in the way that mattered. And then, when Griffith was so close to his dream, came the greatest disappointment. Guts had left. Griffith arrived barely in time to stop him, but instead of admitting what had been eating away inside him for years, he drew his sword. He had let fear, loss, and yes rage, rage that someone he had CHOSEN would WANT to leave him dictate his actions. They had once again dueled, for Guts' life.

This time, Guts won.

His loss left Griffith hollow. There had been misfortune after that, as he let his grief drive him into a foolish act. That act had gained him a year of imprisonment and torture, his body crippled and maimed. But that loss turned to hope, hope that kept him alive after his tendons were cut, and his limbs reduced to useless clubs. Hope that kept him from crying out while his skin was stripped from his body and face, hope that kept him still and calm, while his tongue was cut away from his mouth. Hope that one day, his love would return. Hope that Guts would carry him away, and together they could find their own dream…

Guts had returned, with the best fighters of the Band of the Hawk. And Guts had carried him away, cradling his broken form, and fighting his way out of the dungeon that Griffith had been kept prisoner within. He had come for him, and Griffith's heart rejoiced… No matter what else had been taken from him, if he had just this one thing, he could survive…

And then, the ultimate betrayal. He remembered watching Caska and Guts, watching the sidelong glances, and the little hints in their conversation. Their LOOKS, when they thought no one else was watching. Most of all, the way they touched, in the way that Guts would NEVER touch him. He knew. He KNEW. They still argued as fiercely, but now there was something different. And he knew just what that something was.

He had never told Guts, and now it was too late. Too late for everything. Guts loved HER.

And when the sacrifice had come, the eclipse had darkened the sky and his behelit, that strange magical talisman bled tears of blood… He had called without words and the Godhand came. They brought Hell with them, and offered him a choice. A chance to get his body back and more, to gain his dream of old, to gain a whole land under him, or even a world if he so liked. All he had to do, was make a simple sacrifice.

The choice was simple.

And now, he was Femto forever more.

"Aba?" Caska was playing with his hair, the white locks blowing in the breeze. He smiled down at her, eyes tracing the constant leak of blood discoloring her robe, oozing from the brand on her breast. Though it must hurt, her simple mind was more concerned with the familiar face in front of her. Some part of her remembered him as he once had been, before the Sacrifice. It was ironic, really. He could bleed her to death simply by keeping her close to him, and she would go willingly…

He had shattered her mind during the Sacrifice. The first act of his Divine form had been to rape her in front of Guts' one remaining eye. The act had driven her mad, and he was amused to see that she had not recovered. He had thought that he had done it on a whim, but he was surprised to feel a twinge of pain within him, as he looked upon her face once more. He still felt a shadow of the spite that had driven him so, years ago…

He looked back at the battle.

Guts was still alive. Chunks and splatters of demonic flesh littered the ground and lake, while ichor turned the snow and mud to slush. The sword never stopped moving, that behemoth of a weapon Guts lugged around nowadays tore and ripped at the crowd that surrounded the lone figure. The Swordsman moved as well, rolling and running, using their bulk against them, and confusing their aim so that they struck each other as much as they struck him.

But, strike him they did, and he couldn't parry every attack. He was bleeding from multiple gouges on his exposed flesh, and from lacerations under the armor. He was moving against a chest full of broken ribs, and one of his fingers was bent askew and broken. Bone showed from a gash on his scalp, and blood poured down his face in a steady stream. 

He was tiring. He was slowing. And his opponents did not tire. Six lay dead in the snow, their forms reverting to their previous human shells, but the rest were merely injured. And those injuries were already healing, as they fought. Only if you shatter the heart or the head… That was the only true way to kill an apostle.

Another fell as he watched, but Guts received a slash to the back of the leg. He was limping now, the others closed in for the kill.

Femto felt a brief sense of pity. He would not be able to give him a clean death, with his own blade. And there was something else under that pity, something that hurt in ways that it should not. _Impossible… I cannot still feel for this… This human…_

Giving his head a small shake, he returned his eyes to Caska. She laughed, in response to his perfect smile.

Well. Feelings or not, they did not extend to this pitiful specimen. And she was no longer of any use to him. Idly, he reached out a hand, and closed it around her throat. He watched as she blinked in confusion, and scrabbled at his grip. He watched as her face started turning blue, and her eyes bulged, and he watched-

"NO!" Something was coming at the back of his head, and with perfect grace and impossible speed he whirled, holding Caska's arm with one hand, as he snapped a tiny green form from the air with his free hand. Caska coughed and gasped in air, as his new prey yelled childish obscenities.

_Ah yes, the elf._

"Just what did you hope to achieve, little insect?" Curious eyes peered down at the captive sprite, as it pounded harmless fists against his hand.

"Me? Not much. I'm the distraction!"

Femto's eyes went wide, and he looked up too late…

As the oddly silent horse leaped past him, and the rider's gauntleted hand stretched out…

…Plucked Caska from his grip, hauling her onto the horse with one smooth motion…

…And galloped into the middle of the battle, without hesitation.

Femto blinked in disbelief, then felt a stinging in his palm. He looked down to find the elf replaced with a doll made from nettles, and threw it into the lake as he started running toward the battle, drawing his sword as he went. _No…_

Too late, as the Skull Knight caught up Guts, holding his sword arm as the Swordsman raged, trying to cleave in yet another apostle's skull. _No, after all this…_

And too late, as the horse departed at speeds that no apostle could easily match.

No apostle, true. But one of the God-hand…

With barely a thought he shunted away his mortal flesh, loosing the power of his astral body! Feeling himself clad once again in the metallic red shell of armored flesh, he spread his wings and FLEW.

As the remaining apostles cheered, he sped from the lake like a bolt from a ballista.

The Hawk hunted tonight, and his prey would NOT escape him twice…

In his haste and rage, he never noticed the small green glowing figure clinging to his back and holding on for dear life…


	7. Through the Gates

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. And Sorry for the delay! I've been living in interesting times. And yes, this is going to be a crossover. Those of you who don't know FMA, my apologies. I've intended it this way from the beginning. Don't worry though, you'll soon come to know them…**

**  
Incidentally, some Spoilers for FMA are in this chapter. **

The horse moved through the snow-filled sky, each bound covering hundreds of feet, as it pushed off from the ground. On it rode a knight with a skull-shaped helm and heavy armor, his eyesockets glowing with an unnatural light, matched by the glow from the horse's eyes.

An unnatural rider, for an unnatural steed. In his arms, he held two bloody mortals, a man and a woman. The woman was silent, marveling at the moonlit landscape whizzing by with a child's eyes. The man was struggling to no avail.

"Let… me… GO!"

"No." Replied the Skull Knight.

"He's back there. GRIFFITH! He's far away from his troops now, I can finally-"

"If you face him now, you die." The Knight's voice was as implacable as a tombstone, cold and unyielding.

"I don't care." Guts twisted, sliding his massive sword between his arm and the Knight's, prying with his good hand to try and get some leverage. There was a little give, but not enough…

"As long as he dies with me, I don't care." And he gave a heave, hearing the metal of his artificial arm creak, and start to crumple as he started to pull free…

With no warning, the Knight reigned in the steed, letting go of Guts! The swordsman sprung free of his perch, to roll across the ground over and over, and end up in a mass of snowy bushes! Cursing, and dripping red on the shrubbery, he used the sword to pull himself to his feet…

"What the Hell?"

The Knight's eyesockets stared into his own, and he couldn't look away from the glow.

"If you face him now, you are guaranteed death. And have little chance of ending him. And if you fall, then I cannot guard this woman any longer." He held up Caska, as she squirmed to dismount the horse.

"Would you sacrifice her to your vengeance? Broken as her mind is, she cannot survive without a guardian."

And the black swordsman hesitated…

**ELSEWHERE**

There was a house in the deep, deep woods, miles away from a quiet little town. It was a good house, a large house, but only one old woman lived there, by herself. Occasionally, her adopted children would come to hear her orders, for she was a harsh mother. And they would leave, to do her bidding after she fed them, and comforted them in her own way.

She was Dante. Her story was long, and only Dante knew much of it. Suffice it to say that long ago she had loved a brilliant man, and lost him. And long ago the love had turned to something other, and she knew only the obsession to catch him, to pursue him to whence he had fled.

And to that end, she was drawing in lines of metal. An array pulled from the elements of the earth, as she traced her fingers along the stone floor of her basement, the silver bubbling up under her finger tips through her will, and her knowledge of Alchemy.

She was a great alchemist, and a terrible one, and it was a minor trick to call silver to this place from below. Now, using the crafted metal lines and patterns to focus her will and attempt the next step… That was no minor trick. And she would need other ingredients, that should be arriving shortly.

Soon enough, there were the sounds of feet upon the stairs. One set of heavy footsteps, almost waddling. The other footsteps were delicate, with the clicking of high heels upon stone.

"Mother, we've brought the stones." It was a sultry voice, deep and purring. It belonged to a vision in black shining cloth, a woman dressed in an evening gown and nearly shoulder-length gloves. A red symbol gleamed on her chest, above her ample bosom. Her hair was black, and her black lips curved in a smile that promised pain and pleasure in uneven amounts.

"Can… Can I eat them? Please?" That was the second figure, his high-pitched voice whining as he waddled forward, balancing a keg easily on one shoulder. He was bald and round, dressed in black cloth with white piping. He had the eyes of an idiot, and an eager, hungry grin.

"No." Dante smiled, reaching out a hand to the smaller one's head. The short, fat man purred like a cat, as she scratched his scalp, loosely. Then he yelped, as she seized his ear, and pulled his face up to her own. "And you haven't eaten any of them, have you? You've touched NONE of them, have you, Gluttony?"

"NO! NO! Lust wouldn't let me…" Dante smiled, and let go of the round little man. "Good. Wipe your chin." Gluttony complied, as she nodded at the woman.

"Every one is there, moth-" Dante raised an eyebrow. "Mistress," The woman hastily amended. "I knew what you would do to him, if he snuck a few."

"Such concern for such a flawed project… Well, as long as you do your work well, your conceits are your own, Lust."

The woman shrugged, her lips folding into a sneer for a minute. "Well. Do you wish anything further of us?"

Dante opened the keg, and ran her hands through the contents. Small, red gems trailed from her fingers, cascading in a crimson flow, as she let them fall from her palms.

"Perfect. This should be enough to finally open a stable breach. And the military is unlikely to miss such a large supply of flawed stones?"

Lust shrugged. "With Pride secure in his place, and Envy running interference, no one's ever likely to notice."

"Good." Dante took handfuls of the stones, and poured them into the silver-lined diagram she had traced onto the floor. The red stones gathered and collected, flowing like quicksilver as they filled the lines of the pattern, spelling out arcane characters and strange, twisting runes…

"And Sloth, how is she developing?"

Lust's eyes followed the pattern of stones. Though her face was blank and contemplative, her eyes betrayed her interest as they tumbled past her. Gluttony was far more blatant, his drool smoked and ate into the stone as he watched in hunger, at the crimson bounty before him…

"Hm? Ah, yes, Sloth. It's good to finally have a sister. She's a little naïve yet, but with more stones and time, she'll remember ALL that she's lost."

Dante smiled, hard and grim. "Good. We have no more time for children, she'll have to grow up quickly. At any rate, it sounds like matters are well in hand. Return to that desert town, and oversee that false priest that you've propped up."

"Ah, in Liore? Very well. He's been begging me to deliver on my promise…"

Dante scooped up one of the stones, and flicked it to Lust. The black-clad woman caught it, her fingers seeming to stretch and twist with unnatural speed for a second, in the lamplight. "This should let him play to his heart's desire. Miracles for all of his populace, all the water to wine he can drink. And then, wait and watch, and see who comes…"

Lust nodded. "I know it well. Come, Gluttony."

"Yes, coming!" The little man bumbled upstairs, as the woman left.

And Dante returned to her work…

**ELSEWHERE**

Bleeding, standing on a barely-functional leg, Guts closed his eye. Even through the shut lid, he could still see the glow from the Skull Knight's stare.

"No. Not her."

"I won't sacrifice Caska."

And the Skull Knight nodded. "Good. Then I can save you from him. He comes, quickly, and I cannot confront him. If I do then Zodd will come to face me, and Griffith will tear you asunder while I am occupied. I must hide you, get you to a place where he cannot follow. You and the woman both, or he will use her to find you."

There was a howling scream rising from the South, and Guts shook his head. "He's fast, and he ain't gonna stop. You're gonna hide us, you better have a good place…"

He stopped, and stared. The Skull Knight had tilted his head back, opening his helm's mouth wide. Inside was radiance, and one gauntleted hand was drawing something, drawing it out of his throat.

It was a sword. Thin and short, barely the size of a gladius. Its blade resembled nothing so much as a mass of colored eggs melted and run together. Eggs with eyes, and melted faces…

It was a sword made of behelits! It was one of the small, egg-shaped… things… that had guaranteed Griffith's transformation and damnation. One of them could imbue a human with unholy powers, and form. Guts knew their shape well, he carried one recovered from a slain disciple in a pouch, at his side.

This sword, though… This, he knew nothing about. The sword screamed and puffed steam into the cold air, as the Skull Knight pulled it free, and set it into a firm grip. "I have no time for a long explanation. Suffice it to say that this sword will open gates, doors to allow one to travel anywhere in this world… Or to the Gates between worlds."

"I will have to send you two through different gates. I can guarantee you will find yourselves in the same world… but…"

Guts shook his head. _Barely understand what he's talkin' about. It doesn't matter, as long as he does it quickly._ "Just do it!"

"If the gate is open from the other side, then I can put one through without trouble." Intoned the Skull Knight. "But if the gate is shut, then it will demand a sacrifice. And the price could be terrible."

Guts stared. Then he laughed, without humor, finally shaking his head. "Ha, always a sacrifice. Can't seem to dodge it. Alright, do it. Send her through an open one, if you can."

The Skull Knight nodded, and the sword cut down, at the air…

…And tore, peeling away the very fabric of nothing, opening a crackling white rift in the air as the screams of the Behelits forming the blade reached a crescendo…

Guts glanced up, to find a diving silhouette against the moon…

And elsewhere, Dante finished her meditation, focused her thoughts, and slammed her hands against the diagram on her floor. In no time at all, she found herself in a white space, as two vast doors in front of her began to rumble open…

…The Skull Knight finished his stroke, and his eyes fixed on the white point beyond, as he grabbed Caska and pushed her through… "An open Gate!" He called, and Guts smiled in relief, even as he hefted his sword…

…And the shadow against the moon resolved into a birdlike form, diving!

In the place between, Dante threw herself backward as a brown-skinned strange woman in sackcloth burst from the open Gates, black arms trailing from the void behind her! Eyes wide, the stranger raced into the white nothingness, screaming incoherently! Stunned, Dante watched her run, only to feel hands latch around her own ankles.

"No!" She breathed, as she looked back to see the void beyond the Gates alive with eyes, and limbs, and terrible reaching hands of shadow, hands that had latched onto her, and were dragging her backward…

"NO!" She yelled, as she was pulled into nothingness, and the doors shut with a muffled BOOM.

_An equivalent exchange_, thought Dante. _One comes across, and one stays here forever. _

And then, there was no more time to think.

Elsewhere, Guts raised his sword, squinting in the bad light, trying to see the blurred form swooping down on him. _Too quick!_

Setting his leg, practically kneeling, he tensed, waiting, waiting, and NOW!

Femto's silent dive tore into his side, splitting a great gash out of his armor, and his return swing met only air! Twisting, and gritting his teeth against the pain, he set his good leg and recovered, to see the demonic raptor rising into the sky again…

With a small green glow, adorning its back. "What?"

He watched, as it rose… _That glow looks familiar…_

The Skull Knight lowered his twisted blade, and shook his head. "She is across, and safely! But, there are no more open gates. If I send you through now…"

Guts didn't spare a look at him. "Hey. These gates of yours… What'll they do to an elf?"

The Skull Knight paused. "They came from the gates to begin with, they can return through them just as easily. No sacrifice is needed."

"Good. Puck, NOW!"

And as Femto pulled into his second dive and swooped down upon Guts, the small green form on his back went unnoticed as it pulled itself up to his shoulder! It tucked itself just below the figure's chin, waited until Guts was a scant 20 feet below and FLARED, sending bright light directly into Femto's eyes!

Blinded, Femto tried to pull up, and the blade lashed out…

It almost ended him, right there.

Almost.

Even disoriented, his perfect ears still heard the whisper of the blade coming straight towards his head.

He shifted, and the stroke that would have split his head, instead peeled away one arm, and most of its attached wing.

Silently, face frozen in a mask of outrage, Femto whipped past Guts, and crashed into the trees, ripping shards of wood out of their trunks as he collided, bursting through them and rolling to a stop, hundreds of feet away.

Midway through the crash, Puck bailed, screaming as he sped back to Guts' side.

Guts was already stomping toward Griffith, hobbling on his bad leg, but he spared a grin for Puck. "Hey elf, what took ya?"

"GUTS!" Puck looked over the bloodstained form. "Oh no…" He was bleeding, staggering, barely upright. "Don't… You can't… He'll kill you!"

Guts shook his head, and started past the elf…

…Just as a mailed hand fell on his shoulder. The Skull Knight brought the sword down with his other hand, peeling open screaming white void again, and Guts snarled, bringing the sword around, and sagging in his grip, finally feeling the blood-loss of his wounds.

"Go! I can delay no longer!"

And he shoved the swordsman into the void, as Puck grabbed hold of the tail of his cloak, falling in with him…

And then, there was silence as the portal sealed behind them.

And the Skull Knight looked over at the wreckage of the woods, seeing into the darkness as fallen trees shifted, and a crimson-armored form rose from the wreckage. It held up one mangled arm, that was knitting back together as he watched, wing and arm healing in the space of a few breaths.

They stared at each other for a long minute, before the Skull Knight wheeled and spurred his steed on, vanishing into the darkness.

And Femto screamed, the shrill sound of a thousand hawks on the hunt…

**ELSEWHERE, DANTE'S MANSION**

A brown-skinned woman tumbled into the center of a stone floor, surrounded by silver and crimson light! With a THOOM, the reaction destabilized and the pattern broke, its maker's will vanished into the void. Above her, the house cracked and fell to pieces, the spent energy rippling through the structure and lighting up the night sky for miles around! Caska barely had time to cry out, before the ceiling fell on her, and she was left to darkness…

Down in the small village, Lust and Gluttony stared up at the sudden light above Dante's house.

"What was that?" The fat little man whispered, his normal grin gone.

"I don't know." Lust responded, the silver light flickering against her wide eyes. "But it can't be good…"

**ELSEWHERE**, **THE DESERT**

With a hoarse yell, a bloody, smeared, black-armored form tumbled into the sand, stone ruins stretching against the sky in the distance. He panted, breath sobbing into the sand as he lay there for a full minute.

From his pocket, a green glow thrashed, finally emerging to reveal Puck, unharmed by the journey. "What happened? I couldn't see anything, your cloak got all tangled up. I nearly choked to death! What did I miss?"

"Eh." Guts said, rolling over onto his back, and looking at the damage.

"Not much."

And Puck gasped, staring at the bloody mess of thigh, where Guts' right leg used to be…

"As sacrifices go, not much at all." And with that Guts slipped into unconsciousness, Puck's alarmed shouts echoing in his ears…


	8. Brave New World

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. From this point on, most of the action is going to stay in the world of Full Metal Alchemist. We are now into AU territory, for both series. There will be FMA spoilers from this point onward, and I'm not going to mark them at the beginning of every chapter. However, there will be changes in events, that render some of the spoilers a moot point and change the story. Dante's absorption by the Gates, is one of them…**

**  
Incidentally, I didn't make up the sword of Behelits. Skull Knight reveals that he's been crafting it, around book 26 or 27 or so. I don't know if it can carve ways between worlds, it might eventually…**

He was running again, through the darkness. He was a boy, and naked, carrying only his old sword.

And IT was behind him again, he could feel IT's breath on his back. IT was close, and he knew what would happen if IT caught him.

Before him, was a field of corpses, a lone hill overlooking it. There was safety on the hill, he knew, and so he ran.

The corpses stood as he approached, each one oozing from their deadly wounds. A knight riddled with arrows tried to tackle him, and he lopped off its leg and kept moving. A squad of nearly skeletal men-at-arms leveled pikes and tried to skewer him, but he knocked them aside and kept moving.

But no matter how he ran, IT got closer.

He was at the base of the hill and running up, sword flickering left and right as he used it to hold back the dead. He could see the camp chair, and the silhouette of the man sitting on it, crutch to the side. The dog was there too, and the man was petting it, comforting it in low, nonsense words.

"GAMBINO!" Guts called.

The figure didn't look up, and Guts kept running.

"Help me, Gambino!" IT was so close now, and the hands were nearly on his back…

The figure shifted, and Guts could see it now, the same familiar missing leg, and bandages. But something was different, this time…

"GAMBINO!" And the hands pushed him down, held him down as he struggled, and he knew the sword was useless now. He knew what would happen…

"I can't help you." The figure said, and it was not Gambino's voice. The light shifted, as the figure stood on its crutch, right leg missing…

_But… Gambino lost his LEFT leg…_

"Gam…Gambino?" He asked, as the unseen hands held the back of his neck, caressing obscenely…

"After all." The figure stepped forward. "You brought this on yourself."

And Guts looked at the scarred figure, with missing leg and arm. It was not Gambino.

It wore his face.

And then there was pain, and darkness, and a little boy crying…

And Guts woke, as something slimy was pulled from his back! He looked left, to see Puck busily thrashing a small, tentacled octopus-thing, barehanded. _Incubus, nightmare eater…_ He remembered. He frowned. _Tiny one, though. And I can almost see through it…_

He tried to stand up, and ended up kicking sand into the air, and going nowhere fast. _What?_

He looked down, at the space where his right leg used to be, and the tied-off trouser leg that had been added while he was out cold. _Oh yeah, forgot about that._ He frowned. _That's going to be a problem._

"H-hey! You're awake!"

"Guess so." His voice was rough, and his throat was parched. It was warm here, and the sky was filled with the light of pre-dawn.

He looked around more carefully.

Stone ruins all around him, and sand under him and as far as the eye could see. His breastplate was unbuckled by his side, and his sword still lay where it had fallen. His ragged shirt had been ripped to shreds, and tied in tiny, elven knots to serve as bandages all along his torso and hand. And leg.

_Damn. Little guy does good work. Owe him one for this._

"I'm glad you're up!" Came the shrill voice, next to his ear. Guts winced. 

"Yeah. Hey, where are we? Is this Kushan?" He glanced around. _So much sand…_

"No. Well, maybe. It's… I don't know. I don't think so." Guts blinked, and stared evenly at Puck, who shrugged.

"I can't really explain it. You know how the Skull Knight said that thing about Other Worlds?"

"You heard that, all the way up there and on Griffith's back?"

"Of course! Us elves have super-sharp senses, far superior to puny human ears… And, well, you guys were talking kinda loudly."

Guts snorted, puffing sand off his lips.

"Anyway, this doesn't… feel right. I mean, it's not bad or anything, but the flow of things, the magic tastes… different. I don't know. More orderly."

Guts shrugged, sending up a billow of sand. "Doesn't mean much to me-" He stopped. His eye went wide, and he reached up, grabbing the small, surprised elf with his bandaged hand.

"Elf. Puck."

"Wha-wha-wa---what?" 

"Where's Caska?"

The wind blew between the ruins, sending up puffs of grit as it howled. Puck shook his head, saying nothing for a long moment.

"I don't know. I don't think she came to this same spot. But, she should be SOMEWHERE, if the Skull Knight was correct…"

Guts let him go, let his hand fall back to the sand. Then his mouth twisted, and he nodded. "All right then, we'd better go find her."

"Wha-… you're not serious! Look, I know you're tough, but even for you… Your LEG is off! You've been in a fever for two days, I've had to bandage you up, and go bringing you water and cactus bits to eat, and even with my faerie dust you're NOWHERE near healed yet, and if you move too much your wounds might reopen, and the sun here is FIERCE, if you don't stay in the shade you'll overheat and probably die, and, and, and… OOOOOooooohhhhh!"

Guts had grabbed hold of his sword, and was painfully levering himself up. Teeth gritted against the waves of pain, he wobbled, as the sword shifted in the sand, and barely caught his balance. Finally, roughly, he was upright, shading his eyes with his artificial hand against the rising sun.

Puck sighed, and plumped down on his shoulder, pouting. "I give up. Fine! Go, then…"

"You don't have to come with me. You've already done enough. And I'm only going into more danger."

Puck looked at him. "Are you nuts? I don't KNOW anyone else here! Besides, I want to help find Caska too. And, you're still too interesting."

Guts laughed, a harsh bark. "Alright. Go where you will, then." 

Hobbling, using his sword as a crutch, leaving his armor behind in the sand, the Black Swordsman started slowly westward.

_When you don't know your destination, any road is fine._

**ELSEWHERE:**

There was dust and grit filling her mouth, and Caska coughed. Spat. It was dark around her and tight, but there was light overhead.

And so, she scraped her hands against the clutter around her, pulling herself up. She was bleeding, covered with small scratches, but she didn't care. "Ba!" She insisted, reaching toward the light.

And then there were voices, coming from above, the first one soft. "Hmpf. The basement's a mess, looks like most of the first floor fell into it."

"Where's Mistress?" This voice was shrill.

"Another good question. Make yourself useful and start shifting beams out of here."

And above her, noise. More light. "A…KAFF, kaff. AAaaa!" Caska yelled, choking on the grit sifting down.

"Lust! I hear something! I hear… Mistress?"

"Dante, are you down there?" Came the soft voice, again, louder this time.

"Aaaa!" Caska yelled again, stretching hands toward the light. 

"There! I see her hands! Gluttony, pull her out."

"Yes, yes!" And ham-fisted hands came down and wrapped around her own, pulling her out of the rubble, out into the light.

The hands held her up, and face-to-face with a funny, round, bald little man. He blinked, puzzled, as she laughed, and scrambled to the ground. She sat there, arms wrapped around her knees, breathing hard. "A-hu, a-hu, a-hu…"

"That's… not Dante." Said the soft voice, and she looked up to see a beautiful woman looking down at her, reaching down toward her face. Caska stared in wonder, as the woman turned her face, left, and right, and gently pulled her towards the light for a better look.

"Smells… Smells human! And dirty! No baths, no baths…" The small man chanted, bouncing up and down.

"Now what… Have you gone and transferred bodies again, mistress? But then, why… Why are your eyes so empty?"

Caska was rubbing her head and sneezing, sending up clouds of dust, staggering toward the outside, finding her way out of the wrecked mansion.

"No. No, you couldn't be Dante. But why are you here?" Lust mused, following the strange woman with careful steps, picking her way across the ruined floor.

"Lust, can I eat her?" Gluttony's tongue was out, exposing his own red brand. He was drooling.

"No. Something happened here, and we need to know just what. Keep clearing the basement, look for Dante."

"Aw…"

"There may be a few unconsumed red stones still down there."

"Ah! Stones, bones, stones…" With a cheerful grin, Gluttony returned to work, his thick arms throwing rubble aside with unnatural strength as he dug down.

And Lust took Caska's arm, as she stumbled, and nearly fell back into the basement. "I don't know what happened here, but until I find out… You are coming with us."

She didn't notice Caska's slight wince at a sudden irritation.

Or the tiny drop of blood that welled up from the brand, hidden under Caska's clothes…


	9. Under a Desert Moon

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Fair warning, this story is shaping up to be a long one. I take my time in telling this, because there's so much to work with. I will do my best to end it well when the time comes, but that's going to be a ways off…**

**THE DESERT**

After a few grueling hours, they found that Guts couldn't travel by day.The desert sun was fierce, and the light pouring off of the glittering sand made his head and eye pound with pain. Though he didn't show it, he was also feeling the wear of the wounds from the last battle. The only wound that didn't hurt so much, oddly enough, was his missing leg. This wasn't always a good thing. There were times that he'd forget it was gone, and when he tried to put weight on it, or finish a stride, gravity took its course.

After the fourth fall, he gave in to Puck's incessant piping, and crawled over to the side of a small gulch. The dry streambed hadn't seen water in a long time, but it blocked the worst of the wind and some of the sun.

A sand hare thumped on by, raising a billow of dust, and his throwing knife took it in the side of the neck. Puck retrieved it as it drummed its heels and died, and Guts licked the knife clean of blood before returning the blade to its bandolier. _Risking disease_, he thought. _Still, I can't waste the moisture. This place is deadly dry._

They'd been heading west for hours, but there was no sign of anything on the horizon. _Are we the only people in this world?_ He wondered_. No, Caska's here. Somewhere. And I'll find her, one way or the other._

He tried not to think about what would happen, if she ended up in a part of this world that was like the desert. With no easily obtained food or water and no one around, she would be in trouble. She couldn't take care of herself, if she ended up some place where there were no people around…

_No. The Skull Knight said there was an open gate. That means that someone had to open it, from the other side. And he hasn't lied to me yet, that I know of. Wonder what his game is?_

He banished the troubling thoughts from his mind, as he gutted and cleaned the rabbit. Puck scraped together some kind of dried roots. Guts used those to build a small fire, burying the rabbit in the coals to bake. His mouth watered, as the smell of cooking meat wafted up in the smoke.

"Hey." Puck said. Guts glanced down, the little sprite had been more subdued than usual as they traveled through the blasted land.

"All those ruins we passed… They felt so sad. Like something really bad happened here, a really long time ago and the land never forgot. What was it, you think?"

Guts closed his eye a moment, and leaned back, resting on his arms. Occasionally he'd poke the coals with his foot, shifting the rabbit around to bake evenly.

"People." He finally said.

"What kind of answer is that?"

"The right one." He said. Seeing the sprite's look of puzzlement, he elaborated.

"We're out of most of it, but all those stones we passed were once foundations for buildings. There was a city back the way we came, once."

Puck blinked. "ALL those stones? There were a lot of them. More than hundreds…"

"Yeah. All fallen in, now. Covered by the sand. The way the wind blows the stuff around, it's probably been long gone."

Puck shook his head. "That's a lot of people. What happened to them, do you think?"

Guts shrugged. "War, probably. Maybe plague. Maybe they farmed the land too much, and it turned to desert. This is abandoned because of something that people did, or chose."

"What happened to them? In the end, people happened to them. And now they're gone."

Puck's ears drooped, and he looked back the way they came. For a second he thought the horizon shimmered, and against the sky he saw a city of white towers, golden minarets gleaming against the sun. There was distant singing, and people moving through the streets, smiling as they went about their lives, and the laughter of children. And then the singing turned into the howling of the wind, and the mirage was gone. Nothing but desert, and heaps of stone which might once have been homes.

"That's… so sad", Puck sighed.

"Sad?" Guts asked. "It's a human's lot. We're our own worst enemies, when you get right down to it. Fragile, foolish, selfish things that can't let go, even when we're holding onto something that burns us."

Guts reached into the coals with his artificial hand, ignoring the heat. So small a fire couldn't damage his metal fingers. He was more concerned with the sand and grit. His arm had never been made for working in such a place, and he was noticing grinding noises, and the occasional twitch.

"Somehow, though…" He brushed away the sand and ash, and took a bite of hot rabbit. He burned his tongue as he quickly wolfed it down, his first meat in days. "Somehow, we keep on going. Somehow we survive."

He dug a small hole and buried the bones in the gulch. After dinner, he reached into a pouch by his side. Puck had found a cactus on their trip, and told him that the strange, spiky plant had water inside. It was true, and the pouch was now full of wet pulp. He chewed it, and let the moisture soak into his dry and aching throat.

"Somehow we keep on going. And that's enough."

Puck nodded, and sat on his shoulder. Soon enough, the sun sunk in the horizon, and stars began to stand out in the dark blue sky.

After a time, Guts felt the back of his neck, and grinned, teeth clenched. Puck stirred, waking up from his dream. "Hmm.. whadja? No fish, please. Hm? OH!" The tiny sprite caught himself, scrambling up to the top of Guts' head. "What's wrong?"

"No rest for the wicked." Guts pulled his hand back, and frowned. No blood. "Or is there? Brand's itching, but… it's not so strong."

"Oh, RIGHT!" Puck babbled, flying up, and hovering in front of the sprawled-out swordsman. "I forgot to tell you, ghosts and spirits showed up like usual while you were out those two days, but… It wasn't the same."

"Yeah?" Guts grunted, hauling out his sword from where he'd stuck it in the ground. He frowned at the etching of fine sand, that had been scratched into the dull iron.

"Yeah. It was, well… See for yourself. They're barely there."

He pointed, and Guts squinted under the light of the rising moon. There were wisps of what looked like fog, heading toward the smoke of his small fire. He watched as they crept within twenty feet, and he could finally pick out faces, and forms. Weeping faces, sullen shapes, slumped as they walked. The brand itched again and he checked, but… still no blood.

"They seemed more sad then anything else, too. I didn't let them touch you, but they didn't fight me after I popped a few."

"Huh." Guts leaned back, pulling a handful of knives from his bandolier. He watched them approach, slowly, hesitating. Finally, one started toward him, outstretching pleading hands… And caught a knife through its head. With a gentle puff, the fog dispersed silently, and the ghost was no more.

The rest paused. Their lips started to move, and Guts thought he heard something against the wind, a thousand tiny voices asking for help, for forgiveness… But then it was gone.

He shrugged, and started kicking out the fire. Puck circled him, a long cactus spur in his hands, never taking his eyes from the spirits.

"What do we do?"

"Keep on going."

"Now? You haven't had any sleep!" 

"I was asleep for two days, I can stay up awhile longer. And I'm not gonna sleep while these guys are around."

The Black Swordsman stood, tucking his knives away, and using his sword again as a crutch.

"Besides, it's too hot during the day to walk. So, we'll go at night."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense…"

"Hey. Watch my back, alright?"

Puck's eyes went wide, and he saluted, nearly putting the cactus spine through his head. "Yes, sir! Right! Not a one will escape my vigilance! Don't try anything funny, spooky bits, I've got my eye on you…"

Guts shook his head, and once again, he was hobbling through the dunes, this time with a spectral procession trailing behind.

And under the light of the moon, the silent line of ghosts trailed the man in black…


	10. Bath Time

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Thanks for the reviews to date! Here we go…**

**THE WOODS**

"Anything?" Lust asked.

"Nothing, nothing. Empty…" Came Gluttony's mournful reply.

It had taken Gluttony a few hours to empty the basement, throwing the rubble carelessly around the clearing. Lust had planned to help, only to find herself having to chase down the strange woman time and again, as the tan-skinned idiot attempted to wander off every time she was left alone. Subtle intimidation didn't work, a stern voice didn't work, and Lust was loathe to hurt her, until she was certain that she could learn nothing from her.

There was no way around it, and Lust found herself sitting with the woman on a hollow log, as she babbled and played with a pile of pinecones. Head in her gloved hands, Lust had alternated watching her and Gluttony, as the little round man dug his way down.

But now he was finished.

They'd turned up the crushed body of Dante's maid a little while ago, much to Gluttony's satisfaction. However, there was no sign of Dante, living or dead.

She moved to her feet, grabbing the Woman's arm, and pulling her along gently but firmly. Together, they looked down into the gaping pit that had once been Dante's mansion.

Nothing. Just Gluttony, sitting down there, looking forlorn. With a coo, the Woman started throwing pinecones down at the little man, laughing delightedly as he snapped them out of the air with fast, tearing motions.

"Stop that." Lust jogged her arm, and the woman cried as the cones tumbled away. Lust paid no attention as she considered, the lines of her face carved into a frown.

_Dante is gone. She may or may not return. Judging by the ruins left behind, she did NOT plan this trip. Which means that she could be dead or gone to some place we can't retrieve her, same result either way…_

Gluttony scrambled out of the hole, panting from light exertion, as he sat next to the two women. He knocked his heels together, as he stared down into the deep pit with blank eyes. "Hungry." He mourned. "No red stones…"

_He's got a point, even if he didn't mean it. With Dante gone, the only source of the red stones that we have is the military. That's Pride's domain… With her gone, would he try and assume leadership?_

That rather seemed like a possibility. And it was a troubling one.

_He's too confident. Without Dante reigning him in, somewhere along the line he'll bring trouble down on us all. And then we might as well pack our bags and try our luck in another country… No, he can't be the leader. Nor Envy, he's far too vicious. That draws attention, and he wouldn't bother to cover it up without Dante's wrath hanging over him. Sloth's far too young, and Gluttony… Well. Entirely out of the question. _

_That only leaves one option, doesn't it? Mm. Stuck playing mother again. Still, they'll never listen to me, alone. Gluttony will support me no matter what, but the other three… I can probably convince Sloth, but Pride and Envy will never listen. _

Unless…

She glanced down. The Strange Woman was busily making piles of broken plates from the remnants of Dante's kitchen. Gluttony was just as busily eating the fragments one at a time as they arrived before him, watching the woman as she walked past him, retrieving more china from the shattered cupboards. She watched as Gluttony crept up behind the strange woman, jaw opening wide as he stretched towards the back of her leg, and his broad teeth started to close…

"No!" The sharp, echoed across the ruin, and Gluttony jerked back, looking down in guilt. The woman dropped the plates, and looked at Lust with a hurt expression, lips trembling.

Lust sighed. _Stuck watching children. And now with another, aren't I lucky?_

"Just a leg? Please?" Gluttony whined, picking his bulbous nose with one grubby finger.

"I said, no. She may be useful, somehow. Until then, you can't eat ANY part of her."

Gluttony's face trembled, and tears gathered at the corner of his eyes. "But… Hungry…" He rasped, holding his ample belly with both hands.

"You always are. We'll be in town later, we'll find you someone who won't be missed."

"One more thing…" She looked at the little man, who stared back with his blank eyes. "You are to say nothing about the house falling down, and nothing about Dante being gone. Do you understand, Gluttony?"

His brow furrowed. This was complicated. "But… It DID fall down. And can't smell Master anywhere…"

"Nothing. Or I'll leave you to fend for yourself, like you were before I found you…"

"NO! Not that! I'll be good. Promise, promise!" Fat hands clutched at her feet, as the frightened creature groveled, and begged. She let it go on a minute before stroking the back of his head, giving him a little comfort and quieting his wailing.

"Yes, you will be good. And I'll be watching. Come on, let's go." _The others will never listen to me, unless I pretend that my orders are instructions from Dante. If I'm careful, then I can fool them into thinking that she's still alive…_

And leading the strange woman by the arm, the three moved into the woodline, as the sun sank on the horizon.

A few long minutes passed, and a woman in a loose white coat stood up from her hiding spot in the trees, flexing her legs. She had a beautiful face that was permanently etched into a merciless glare, and a knot of black dreadlocks at the back of her head. She covered her mouth and coughed, gently… The cough soon turned into deep hacking, that ended up with her spitting blood on the grass.

But no one was around to hear it, by that point.

"Three homunculi." The woman muttered to herself. "Only saw two brands, but the third could be hidden…" She scowled. She'd overlooked many of her old teacher's flaws, since they'd parted in anger. God knew her own hands were nothing near clean, either. The blood on the grass was testament to her sin… But still, homonculi… "What were you mixed up in, Dante?" And with that, Izumi Curtis turned and started the long walk back to town.

**HOURS LATER**

It was an eerie fog that filled the air as Lust, Gluttony, and the Strange Woman picked their way out of the forest, into the outskirts of town. The air was full of some strange mist that seemed to follow the three of them through the forest… It had sprung up around nightfall, and persisted in blocking their way. Gluttony kept whimpering. For some reason he was convinced that it was made of people, and was watching him all down the path. The Woman, for once, was quiet as she looked around with big eyes.

Thus, it fell to Lust to lead the way down the path, keep the two of them in line, and find her way by the light of the moon. She was NOT happy.

She was less happy when she arrived at the train station, and found it closed. With a scowl she stared at the schedule, looking down the listings.

"Well, this is a waste. No trains until tomorrow."

She looked over at the Woman and wrinkled her nose. She was barely on her feet, yawning widely and leaning on Gluttony's head for balance. The little man looked miserable, so much warm meat so close, and he couldn't take a single bite for fear of Lust's anger…

"I'd forgotten how frail and easily tired humans were. And how much they smell bad after they get dirty. Come on."

After retrieving her carrying bag from its hiding place in the woods, she lead the way down the empty streets to a small hotel, and left the others outside as she went inside, to the wide-eyed appreciation of the desk clerk. A smile, a few coins, and a quick flash of cleavage later, and she came out. "Up the back, take her with you." Gluttony nodded. She moved inside to the upper floor, lighting the lamp of the small rented room, and opening the window. After a minute, a series of thumps resounded against the wall and Gluttony clambered through the window, one arm holding the giggling woman tight to his back. Lust's lips quirked for a second, at the picture they made...

"I saw a maid on my way up. Go eat, but make sure she doesn't scream."

"Yes! Yesyesyes, Quiiiii-eeetttt…" He clicked his teeth together, and shuffled out the door, leaving Lust looking down at their strange guest.

She looked at the brown-skinned woman, who was already curling up, and yawning. "I don't suppose you can wash yourself?"

"Brm?" Was the woman's response.

"I Didn't think so. Come on, then."

The Woman proved to be solidly coated in dirt, once Lust got her in the bathtub. She fought against the water for a few minutes, crying, but settled down once it warmed up. Now she was occupied with the suds, blowing bubbles and wiping them in Lust's hair.

Lust tolerated it. The alternative was violence, and that would probably wake half the hotel with the woman's screams. She pushed her indignation aside, and busied herself with scrubbing. The filth, dried sweat, and blood sluiced away from her body, revealing scar after scar. Lust's violet eyes widened, as she took in the amount of damage this seemingly innocent woman had withstood. Some were round, where something had pierced her flesh. Others were lines, where she had been sliced. Yet others were burns, and serious ones at that. The oddest of all proved to be an odd, almost alchemical symbol burned onto her breast. Not a tattoo, but a deep burn, that bled very lightly as she washed it. Just a drop or two, but it was fresh blood…

"What is this?" She touched it with one gloved finger, and the woman grimaced, and pulled away. "Hm. Somebody nearly killed you, over and over again, according to these scars. And then they went and put their mark on you, too. Typical human cruelty, I wish that I were surprised. Is this why you're a babbling idiot?"

She got a faceful of suds and water in response, and shrugged, water running down her neck and across her own tattoo. Straightening and wiping herself off, she frowned into the mirror, then looked back at the woman in the bath. _Could it be?_

"It's nothing like the Ourobouros… But could that be a seal? Are you a prototype? Another kind of homonculous?"

"Did Dante make you, in a failed experiment? Is that what the explosion was?"

The Woman shrugged, and buried her face in the bubbles. Lust reached into the bath and yanked out the plug, and the Woman cried as all her suds drained away.

"I'd think that you weren't. You sweat, these scars seem to indicate that you don't regenerate, if you have any transformative powers I've yet to see them… And you get tired."

"Tch. Whatever you are, I can't test that, with what I have here. Well, as it turns out, we're heading to Central anyway. And I know just the alchemist to ask, about you…"

She toweled the Woman off, avoiding her target's attempts to snatch the towel. After she was dry, she retrieved a nightgown from her carryall, and dressed the Woman in it. Her old sackcloth garment was frankly too filth-encrusted and ragged for salvation, and it was thrown neatly out the window.

By this time, the Woman was curling up on the floor. Lust transferred her to the room's only bed, and took a seat on the nearby divan. The door clicked open and Gluttony padded back in, but by then their guest was already sleeping soundly under the covers.

Gluttony hopped up on the chair next to Lust, and stared at the Woman with blank eyes.

"What we do now?"

"Wipe your chin."

The little man did so, licking his fingers after he was done.

"We're going to Central, with... Her. She needs a name, don't you think?"

Gluttony shrugged. She wasn't food, according to Lust, so he didn't really care.

Lust smiled. "We'll call her… Pet. Yes, that will do."

"Pet." Whispered Gluttony. His teeth were white in the pale moonlight from the window.

And under the gaze of the two artificial humans, Caska, unaware of her new nickname, slept on through the night…


	11. Death comes to Liore

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. And in this chapter, we gain even more protagonists…**

**THE DESERT**

Step.

Drag.

Step.

Drag.

Step.

Drag.

Two days of sleeping, in whatever shade he could find. Two nights of pulling himself across the desert, scrounging up whatever food and water he could find, watching his exposed skin get ragged and raw from the blowing sand. 

Step.

Drag.

Step.

Drag.

Still, Caska was out there somewhere. Maybe in trouble, maybe worse… And with that always in his mind, he kept on going, in the direction that the sun set. West…

Step. 

Drag.

And he paused. Squinted his remaining eye, as he dug the sword into the sand, and braced himself for a second. Finally, he reached into a pouch at his side, and pulled out a small, yawning figure.

"Hrnn.? Wuzzat? Ah…" Puck yawned, and flexed his wings, as Guts held him up by an arm.

"Hey, elf. You see what I'm seeing?"

Puck blinked. Stared, and cheered! "A city! I knew it! C'mon, let's go…"

"Whoa, there."

He let Puck go, and the tiny elf flittered desperately to avoid a fall. "Gah! I mean, what are we waiting for?"

Guts took a grip on his sword, as he pointed with his metal arm. The gears grated, and the fingers twitched, as it locked into place.

_Damn. Needs oil, soon, and cleaning. Can't do it out here, with all this sand…_

"See all those little shelters around the town wall?"

"Oh, those?" Puck squinted in the moonlight. "Wow, I thought they were garbage heaps."

"Nope. Looks like refugees."

"Refugees? What difference does that make?"

"If they're building shelters outside the wall, probably means the gates are closed at night, to keep them from sneaking in. So we wouldn't get inside the city. And refugees are usually running from something. I come in at night looking like this, well..."

Puck winced. "Yeah, you might have a point. No sense in having to fight a whole bunch of innocent people."

Guts was silent a minute.

"Yeah." He said, finally.

"Anyway, I haven't seen any ghosts here. Take watch, and wake me if anything happens, I'll rest up for the morning."

"Right!" And Puck flitted out among the dunes, moving in a looping, low circle as Guts settled into the sand, pillowing his head on his good arm.

_We'll try this tomorrow…_

-----

Step.

Drag.

Step.

Drag.

Jannis nudged Kimmal awake.

"Hey. You see what I see?"

The large man grinned, lifting his floppy, wide-brimmed hat from his bald head. "I see easy pickings."

Jannis grinned back, his mismatched teeth shining yellow in early morning's light. "Well, then, what are we waiting for?"

The two men got up from their seats in the shade, and picked their way through the fringes of the refugee camp, kicking or shoving anyone who got too close to them. Women snatched up their children and got out of the way, men looked aside and at the ground, and the elderly survivors watched them go with glares. They were not well-liked, Jannis and Kimmal. But they were Ishbalan, so they were tolerated.

And in a few short minutes, they were standing in front of their latest mark.

He was a muscular man, under the grimy bandages. He might have been large, but with the way he was leaning on some kind of wide, metal tool, it was hard to tell. One eye was permanently shut, and one of his trouser legs ended just above the knee, where he had been maimed. His left arm was automail of some sort, and Jannis smiled to see it. _Automail's good money, even used…_ The man was looking them over, no real expression on his face. Every square inch of him was covered with a fine dusting of sand, and his exposed skin was burned. It was normally pale skin, not the darker hues that indicated Ishbalan blood. _Which makes him fair game, no one in the refugee camp will stand up for him_, thought Jannis.

Despite his raggedy condition, the man's belt had several pouches on it. Pouches that looked full, and inviting…

Kimmal grinned, and set his thumbs in his belt. "Evening, friend. You look like you've been through a lot. Unfortunately, we've got bad news for you…"

"Yeah." Said Jannis. "Liore already has enough desperate wanderers. So, you can't come in here."

"Not without a tax, anyway. And we're the collectors." Sniggered Kimmal.

The man was just watching them. He was, of all things, looking bored. Jannis frowned.

Jannis didn't see the small, green elf perched on Guts' shoulder, though he was looking straight at it. No one did.

And the man finally spoke, his voice rough and deep. "I don't have any coin. Guess you're out of luck."

"Well then, that's fine. We'll take that automail arm of yours. You won't miss it, you're doing fine with one leg. Or maybe we'll take that shovel you're lugging around. Sure, you'll have to crawl, but we don't mind…"

"Have you seen a strange woman show up in the last few days? Dark skin, like yours? She's a little scatterbrained…"

The pair blinked. Then Jannis shrugged. "Haven't seen anyone in the camp, but I haven't been looking. You could go in and look for yourself, if you paid the tax. Hell, we'd even let you get into the city! Just a small donation friend, and you can go see the sights to your heart's content…"

"Hey." The man was looking past them, at the watching refugees beyond.

"You just gonna let things go this way?" The man raised his voice, and looked around at the bystanders.

They looked away, not meeting his eyes, and the women pulled their children into nearby tents.

Kimmal laughed. "That what you were hoping for? Rescue? You've got the wrong color skin for that, and we Ishbalans have our own problems nowadays. So, we have to look out for ourselves. And now, I think that's enough stalling." Kimmal slid his knife from his belt, and Jannis pounded his meaty fist into his palm, grinning.

"You're guilty of tax evasion, so we'll be confiscating all you've got. Now, if you don't struggle, you might get out of here without a beating…"

The man shifted his… shovel, or whatever it was, to his automail arm, and looked at Jannis. Jannis took half a step back, before he caught himself. _That eye… That's the eye of a dead man…_

"So. Right or left?" The man asked, in a conversational tone of voice.

"What? Oh, just get him!" And together the pair rushed the cripple, who fell onto his back, and KICKED as Kimmal rushed forward! His boot caught the Kimmal square in the groin, and LIFTED him up and over, sending him rolling onto the sand, clutching himself, and seeing red. He was out of the fight, howling and sobbing as he squirmed, and dimly he heard Jannis bellowing in rage. "I've got you now, you bastard! Not so tough with my hands around your neck, are you? HAhahahaha…wha?"

Then, the sand shook for a second, and there was a dull BOOM.

After half a minute, his ears recovered, and the pain was not so much. He saw his knife a few feet away, and crawled toward it desperately, reaching out his hand… Just as a booted foot came down on his fingers, and with a CHUNK, a massive wedge of iron was shoved into the sand, a few inches in front of his face. He screamed, and finally realized just what the tool WAS, even as the faint remnants of his rational mind dismissed the idea.

It was far too big to be called a sword.

Too heavy, too thick, and far too rough, it was more like a heap of raw iron...

"Let's see," came the stranger's voice, as he ground his heel on Kimmal's hand. Kimmal whimpered.

"By the way you were holding your knife, I'd say you were right handed. So I'll start with your left. Have you seen a strange woman come through in the last couple of days?"

"J… Jannis! Help me…AGH!"

The stranger had pinned his outstretched left hand to the sand with a throwing knife.

"Jannis. Was that that other guy's name? Sorry, you're out of luck, then."

And in horror, Kimmal looked around.

And saw the stunned crowd, and the red pulp sprayed over their faces. He followed the grisly trail down, until he saw the mangled mess on the sand, that had once been Jannis. There was a strange smoke in the air, a heavy, hellish scent, and he heard a faint hissing…

He looked up at the stranger, and saw the smoke pouring out of his automail, slowly dissipating in the desert wind. _What did he do? What did he DO to Jannis?_ And his fevered mind could only seize upon one answer…

"Look. It's real simple. Have you seen a strange woman come through here in…"

"Alchemy…" Hissed Kimmal, and around him the crowd gasped. "You… you're an alchemist! A murderer!"

"Wrong answer." Kimmal howled, as another throwing knife thunked into his hand. But by then, the crowd was murmuring, and he could hear them pressing forward.

The stranger looked up, and his eye widened. "Damn."

His foot came away from Kimmal's hand, and with a yell of triumph, Kimmal shoved it forward and grabbed the knife…

…As the stranger kicked Kimmal in the head. And Kimmal knew nothing more…

---

Guts hopped awkwardly, recovering from the kick. The bandit seemed to be solidly out, and he knew he'd need his footing shortly. He looked around, at the outraged crowd, and heard the low murmur of an unfamiliar language.

"Look, I told him and I'll tell you, I got no coin." He spoke, and saw only angry faces.

"You're an alchemist! You killed poor Jannis with alchemy! You're a murderer! Heretic! MONSTER!" Came the response. The first few stones arced past him, and he narrowed his eye.

"What'll we do?" Yelled Puck, as he ducked behind Guts shoulder.

"Might want to get clear." Guts murmured back. "Still getting the hang of fighting on one leg, had to use the cannon on that guy. This could get messy."

"But… But, they're just people! They're just scared…"

Guts didn't bother looking down. "So, what? I should let them kill me here? Leave Caska to whatever fate comes her way?"

Puck blinked. "No, but…"

A rock bounced off of Guts' sword, as he shifted it around to block. Safe behind the massive blade for a second, he turned his head to Puck. "They would have stood by, and let these two morons work me over. Now they're ready to kill me over these two wastes of space, and I got no idea why. What a joke, huh?"

Guts wasn't smiling. His face was sad, and more than that, resigned. He knew what was coming. And he didn't have any way to stop it. Demons were one thing, but this…

The crowd grew louder, and Puck heard them start to rush forward, gaining courage as others came with them, and a small hail of stones thudded off of Guts' blade…

Tears leaked from the corners of Puck's eyes. He flew free, unseen by the mob that was rapidly surrounding them. "I… I know. Just… Can you not kill them?"

Guts sighed, and shifted the sword, his free hand plucking out throwing knives from his bandolier. The mob slowed, and started to spread out, no one wanted to be the first to reach this terrifying man…

"I wish I could." Guts murmured, as he looked around. _There's a lot of them, and I can't move so well, with no leg and my arm full of grit.. Not even sure I can swing this sword right… If I was whole, maybe I could do this without killing any of them. I could get away. _

_  
But I'm not whole. And that makes it simple._

_  
If I want to survive this, then I can't hold back._

For a second, they stood, looking at each other. And for a few more seconds, he thought that they might back down, that they could all walk away from this, that he wouldn't have to wade through an ocean of blood on this day.

And then, the stone caught him on the brow. Light and sharp, it had come out of the sun, blinding him until the last second. It cut his forehead, and sent him reeling for a second.

And in that second, the mob moved in, and he did the only thing he knew how to do.

And they died, and they died, and they died…

**TWO HOURS LATER**

After quarrelling and a good sand-fight, the armored figure and the short, blonde, red-coated kid walked over the rise, and looked at the city below. "There she is, Al! Liore. Let's hope that this time the rumor is true…"

"Only one way to find out, brother… Hey, what's that?"

He pointed, and the small figure shielded his eyes from the sun, as he looked around. 

"Looks like a caravan, but I don't see any horses… And they're pretty poor for merchants. Let's go see what's going on."

The two brothers trudged up to the city, waving at the first in line of the "Caravan." "Hey, what's going on?" The blonde asked. "Where are you going?"

The old man shook his head, and scowled at the city. "A monster came in, and started killing our people. The guards did nothing, we had to fight him ourselves! And then, when we were about to overwhelm him, the Templars came, and took him inside. Threatened to shoot us if we didn't let him go! Damned cultists of a false god…"

He spat, and the blonde kid blinked. "Wait… You're Ishbalan, aren't you? I didn't think there were any of you guys left…"

The old man's face hardened, as tears leaked down his wrinkled, brown face. "Well. There's ten less of us now, and more wounded. We're abandoning this worthless town, and they can keep their damned monster and their evil cult. Don't go there, young man. There's nothing but sorrow there."

And the caravan started up again, the Ishbalans making their way into the desert, as the two strangers watched them go.

"Ed." Whispered the armored figure. "What's going on here?"

"I don't know Al… But we're gonna find out!"

And with the sun at high noon in the sky, the Elric brothers walked through the gates of Liore.


	12. Lust for Power, Hollow Pride

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Welcome to the politics of Sin, in this chapter. Also, fair warning, BIG spoilers for FMA...**

**CENTRAL (2 days prior to Guts' arrival at Liore)**

"And what do you have to do that's so important?"

"I told you," said Lust. "The master wants me here, for future developments. She doesn't tell me everything, and I know not to bother asking."

The thin, androgynous figure across from her tossed his head, throwing his green dreadlocks back over his shoulder. He sneered, crossing his arms and leaning back against the nearest gear. He was Envy, and never was a creature more aptly named.

They'd met in the clocktower, that night. It had been a short trip by train from Dublith, really the trickiest part of the business had been getting word to her fellow Sin, and setting up a meeting. That was the problem with him... You could never be sure where Envy would show up at any given time.

"Where's chubby?" Envy asked, breaking her train of thought.

"Out eating. I didn't need to bring him along for this." Gluttony was actually in their safehouse, keeping an eye on Pet.

Envy sighed, drumming his hands along the gear, making muffled "Gong" sounds. "So. To review... I'm to go out to Liore, deliver this stone to fat baldy, and keep an eye on the situation from the shadows?"

"Yes. Gluttony and I were originally going to do it, but evidently the Master has different plans."

"Tch. You're the one who seduced that false priest to begin with. You should be on hand, to keep him satisfied."

She felt a twinge of anger. Her eyes narrowed, as she replied.

"I merely helped him realize his ambitions. And, if he gets too lonely and can't find any willing acolytes, then... You know, you ARE capable of taking my form..."

Envy's arms whipped out and stood straight at his sides, as he stalked toward Lust, and jabbed his finger at her chest, face a mask of rage. "I won't do THAT! Give a HUMAN that kind of pleasure? Agh!"

Lust smiled.

"No one said you had to. What difference does it make though, anyway? We're not human, our bodies are just one more tool to realize our ambitions."

Envy shook his head again. "The very thought disgusts me..."

"Because you'd feel nothing?"

He glanced at her, sidelong, masking his curiousity with a smirk. "Is that how it is? You don't feel anything?" She hid her response. _He's the oldest among us, and he's never even tried sex? Though, he wasn't of age when he came across. That might make a difference with his chemistry... Or perhaps he's worried of losing himself even more..._

"That's how it is. I feel nothing, so it doesn't matter to me." That wasa bit ofa lie, but she was damned if she'd admit a weakness to him. Memories sometimes came, when she was tangled intimately with another. And those hurt most of all.

Envy was silent for a long moment, tossing the stone up and down in his hand. "Hmph. Well, the priest's old stone is probably almost worn out by now, with his taste for big budget miracles. I suppose if we don't want to lose our investment, he'd better have this."

He sighed. "Stupid, sandy, boring Liore. Well, maybe he'll have a few heretics executed while I'm there. Liven the place up."

He looked out the window. "Have you checked in with his nibs yet?"

"No. That's my next stop, to drop off instructions for Pride. And Sloth, too. Are they still working together?"

"Yeah. They make a fairly good team. Itried to get her to handle some streetwork with me, but she wasn't interested..." Lust tuned Envy out for a second to think. She didn't like the idea of Pride and Sloth forming a bond. Pride was likely to give her the most trouble when she finally made her move, and if he had allies, that could make things tricky. No matter, she could probably recruit Sloth before Pride got wind that there was trouble. But, first things first...

"Oh, one more thing."

Envy raised an eyebrow. "What now?"

"The master's working on a project, something big. She doesn't want ANY disturbances for a week or so."

"Tch. Typical. I wonder what she's found this time?"

Lust shrugged. "Again, I know better than to ask..."

"Well, enough delay. It's a day or two to Liore, as the owl flies."

And with a shifting, flickering of energy, and the thin, green-haired figure changed, shrinking... Until a large owl was left, a tiny red brand on its left leg. Catching up the red stone in its claw, it hopped to the window of the clocktower, and took flight in silence. Lust watched it go, with a thin smile.

_Well. That was easy enough._

_Now for the hard part._

---

The blue-coated man smiled, as he sipped his tea and watched Lust leave. From his vantage point at the window of his office, he watched her cross the empty parade ground, and vanish through the gate. With a fur cloak and hat covering her features, particularly her brand, no one would especially take note of her going.

He set his tea cup down with a Chink, before standing. His features were known across the country, especially since that chiseled jaw, eyepatch, and warm smile adorned the five mark bill these days. His photograph was in the newspaper across the nation, and he was a welcome guest at the finest social events of the upper crust. His record in war and peace was spotless, and his subjects loved him.

He was Fuhrer King Bradley, and he was not human.

He was createdwith power, for power, the perfect heir to the forces, wealth, and alchemy of the most advanced nation on the continent.

Years ago, his creator, his master, had chosen a prominent young military officer. In the chaos of the Ishbalan war she had kidnapped him, and used his likeness to forge a homonculus. She designeda homonculus to rise to power,bymurdering theformerFuhrer, andgrooming her own candidate. And sureenough, when the time came, the Sins had made sure that a homonculus took the position. He was that homonculus, and he bore his mark hidden in plain sight. And it was more than his mark, it was his special power.

_No one can hide from the eye. Not even you, Lust._

Many of his fellow homonculi were given to gloating. It was a weakness, really. He kept his true thoughts silent, and hidden... As watched as he was, the day he revealed himself was the day that Dante had no more use for him. And for now, he could not afford his Master's ire.

_For now._

Still, it amused him to no end that he was the only one of the Sinssuitable for this position. _But then, form follows function, after all..._

He let his face slip back into a smile, and pushed the button on his desk.

"Miss Douglas, could I see you for a moment?"

A few seconds later, the door clicked open, and high heels clicked on the wooden floor. His smile lasted until the door closed, and then his face became cold, and motionless.

The woman across his desk looked back, her face equally still. She had long brown hair, and wore a permanently bored expression. Her clothes were professional and modest, and she also was not human.

Pride looked upon Sloth, his eye glittering, backlit from the electric lamp by the window. "What instructions did she give you?"

"I cannot speak of them." Sloth's face didn't shift from her bored expression, and her dull gaze didn't budge from staring out the window.

"Interesting, don't you think? I'm not supposed to speak of mine, either. This is the first time that the Master's forbid us internal discussion."

"Is it?"

"In my existence, yes. And it makes me wonder."

"Wonder what?"

"It makes me wonder if Lust knows that the Master had a phone installed last week, for the purpose of relaying her orders directly to us."

Sloth glanced down, at the Pride's unsmiling face. "What are you implying?"

"Oh, I'm implying nothing. Merely following an idea."

"Lust did mention that the Master didn't want to be disturbed..."

"So? The maid will have to answer the phone, then."

And Sloth's lips twitched into a small smile. "I take it that I have a phone call to make tonight?"

"Unless it countermands your orders."

"Not at all." And she left.

Five minutes later, she was back. "No reply. No one picked up. Perhaps she disconnected it..."

"No. The Master isn't that handy with modern technology. Have a telegram sent in the morning. Have it say... Please confirm validity of latest instructions RE gardening. Yes, that should do it."

"Very well. You should go home, it's late."

"Is it? Well. Can't leave my wife and son waiting, then..."

The man smiled, as he leaned back into the light. Pride was banished, and he was once more King Bradley. And Sloth left, to find her quarters and maintain her own facade of Juliet Douglas' life.

King Bradley steepled his fingers, and smiled as his thoughts turned inward.

_I could tell you were lying, Lust. You can't fool the eye. I don't know what your game is, yet..._

_Well. We'll see what news the telegram brings..._

And with that, he stood and shut the curtains, as the moon rose high over Central city...


	13. Prophet Margin

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Back we go to sandy Liore...**

**LIORE: THE CATHEDRAL**

"You're sure you don't need a physician?" Asked Cray.

"I'm fine. Just need to rest." The one-legged man used the wall for support, his sword stowed on his back. He was covered in dried blood, his face a mask of bruises and scabs. Steadily, he inched along towards the nearest door of the corridor. A pack of templars walked behind the two of them, wincing with every jolting hop.

Cray frowned. He was a large, blocky man with a broad face and trimmed goatee. His templar's coat was black, with white trim, and his skin was dark. He had the honor and duty of serving the Sun God's prophet on Earth, and one of Leto's teachings was compassion to those who deserved it.

He laid his hand on the man's shoulder, and immediately had it knocked away. "Don't touch me."

Crayshook his head."I just wanted to say, there's no need for stubborn pride. You're wounded, you're hurt, you're obviously exhausted... What difference does it make? Let us help you to the room. Please. If only to make us feel better, frankly it hurts to watch you."

The man paused in mid-skip. He looked back at him, his one eye studying Cray's face for a long minute. Finally, he grinned. "Guess I am a mess, aren't I? All right. Suit yourself."

Cray nodded, and waved another templar forward. The two of them started to lift the one-legged man... and nearly fell over backwards! "Wh.. what?" Cray gasped, regaining his balance. It's _like he weighs twice what he should. What on earth..._ His eye fell on the sword on the stranger's back, and comprehension struck. "That... that sword. How much does it weigh?"

"About two-hundred pounds."

"Well, we can't carry it and you at the same time, here, take it off and we'll...

"No."

And they watched, in amazement, as the one-legged man closed the distance to the door, and vanished inside.

"How can he carry that thing, let alone wield it? And with one leg! Truly Leto has blessed him... Or SOMETHING has blessed him..." The templars whispered among themselves, and Cray glared them to silence. He walked to the door, and nodded as the Stranger collapsed onto the bed, and started pulling pouches off of his belt.

"I'll have food, water, and clean bandages sent up for you in a bit. The Father will want to talk to you as well, but he's in seclusion right now. I'll ask him if he wishes to make an exception."

The stranger grunted. "Thanks."

"Incidentally, I didn't have time to ask. What's your name?"

"Guts."

"I'm Cray. Please relax, you're in the hands of Leto now. You have nothing to worry about, the Sun God takes care of the righteous."

And Cray closed the door, and went to make his report to Father Cornello.

---

Puck hopped off of Guts' shoulder, and watched the door shut. "Wow, that was nice of them. Kind of weird though, not a one of them could see me."

Pouches hit the bed behind him, as Guts pulled out the various tools and bottles he used to clean his weapons. "Didn't you tell me once, not everyone could see elves?"

"Yeah, but this is the first time I've run into a town full of them. It's kinda nice, actually... Usually I get hassled a lot when I go someplace new."

"Is that why you stick with me?"

"Please! I already told you, you're interesting enough on your own. Besides, you'd be lost without me."

Guts snorted. He pulled out a whetstone, and handful of rags, and examined his sword. Shifting it from side to side, he moved the bulky heap of iron around, frowning at it all the while.

_The hell? There should be stains on this blade from the blood of those guys, but there's nothing. Did it wear off on the trip?_ He ran a finger down his face, and looked at the crusty reddish-brown smear. _This is their blood too... Why is it still on me, and not the sword?_

He flipped the blade again, and his eye widened.

_The blade's unscratched. How is this possible? I looked at it in the desert, and the sand was marking it all up... I'm sure that I saw all the scratches on it... But now it's fine. Was I sun-sick?_

"Hey, what's wrong? You look like you saw a ghost..."

Guts shook his head. "Nothing." _The sword's fine, that's all that matters right now. I've got other things to worry about._

He put the sword aside, and moved on to his knives and autocrossbow, giving them light treatment. After those, he pulled out a padded pouch, full of spiky little metal spheres, each in their own little wool-padded wrapping. These he didn't clean, he just checked to make sure that they were intact, and not leaking.

Finally, he pulled a couple of stays on his metal arm, and detached the front part from the socket. He winced at the small flood of sand that poured out. _It's a miracle I got that shot off without blowing this wide open..._ Painstakingly, he picked out each particle of grit from the workings, and applied oil to the joints. After that, he reached into another pouch, packed powder, flints, and wadding into the hollow socket, and loaded an apple-sized metal sphere. He reattached the front part of the arm, and tried flexing it. _Still not working quite right. Damn. I wonder how the smiths on this world stack up to Godo?_

"It was nice of them to put us up here, though. Well, you, anyway. I'm just along for the ride." Puckbabbled on.

"Feel like going flying?" Guts asked.

Puck glanced around. "What did you have in mind?"

"Just want to make sure our hosts are sincere."

"Hey, that Cray guy seemed pretty nice... Maybe a little stern, sure, but..."

"He's got a boss, and I want to know something about him before I meet him. Never heard of any god called Leto. Or any god that wasn't God."

Puck shrugged. "Hey, if it'll set your mind at ease." Guts was already lying back on the bed, his eye starting to shut. "Feh. Allright, you big lazybones..."

And with a twitch of his wings, he was out the window and zooming around the vast cathedral.

All of a sudden, there was a burst of NOISE around the city, that set him wobbling in flight, and covering his ears before settling on rooftop. Curious, he stared down into the window below. A family was listening to what looked like a small wooden box, oddly shaped. The box was talking about the Sun God, and how everyone could be saved in his eyes. Puck didn't catch all the details, as he took to the sky again, and hovered through the city. Every place that people lived or worked had one of these boxes, and they were all saying the same thing, in the same voice.

"Magic?" He squinted, and focused his senses. "No. It feels more... metal, and sparky. This is human-made, whatever it is."

That settled, he watched a pair of unlikely travelers, one short in a red coat, and one wearing a full suit of spiked armor. In this heat? He flew forward to get a closer look, and was startled as the armored figure stared directly at him!

"WAAAA!" Puck beat his wings and took off into the sun, leaving Al grasping his brother's shoulder. "Ed! Ed, did you see that?"

"See what, Al?"

Al pointed at the retreating green spark, and watched as Ed looked that way and shrugged. "Well, it's a pretty big cathedral, but no real cause for alarm. C'mon, let's get a drink."

"Not that... but... I mean... Okay." Al nodded, and followed his older brother.  
---

Hiding under a statue of a bearded man with a spiky crown, Puck panted and caught his breath. "He saw me! Guess not everyone here's elf-blind... Hm, this'll make things tricky."

He straightened up. "Wait, I need to find the boss guy, that Father Cor... Cornhole? Coronet? Something like that..."

"Father Cornello!" A voice came from the window above him.

"Yeah, that was it! Wait, what?"

He popped his head up through the window, and saw a well-furnished office. He was looking at the back of a bald man's head, and off to the left was Cray. A tan-skinned woman with pink, two-shaded hair was talking to the bald man. "...Is it okay if I put them up in the pilgrim's quarters?"

"My my, three travelers in one day. We're quite busy... Ah well, the Sun God's generosity is limitless, so we shall provide as we can."

"Three travelers? No, there are only two..."

Cray interrupted. "There was a man who was ambushed by Ishbalans at the gate, and held off an entire mob of them by himself. He's recovering in the quarters now."

"What? That's terrible... I've talked with the refugees many times, I don't see how they could do something like that... Are you sure it wasn't a mistake?"

"Rose." The bald man was speaking again. "You like to do good deeds, don't you?"

"Well, that's what you teach us, Father Cornello.."

"Unfortunately, not everyone sees Leto's decrees as clearly as you do. The Ishbalans, for example, follow a false goddess. This is why they were punished with the war. And it is why they resorted to desperate thievery against a lone traveller. Truly tragic."

"I... I don't know what to say. They seemed so sad, and they just wanted to find a home..."

"They have moved on now, child. They could not face their shame, and left our city. It is a pity, but one can only minister to the willing." Father Cornello folded his hands, and smiled in regret.

Cray nodded. "In any case, the traveller is recovering in the main quarters now. We can easily put your visitors across the hall."

"Oh, thank you! I'll go see how they're doing. And I'll check on the traveller, too. What's his name?"

"Guts, he said. He's... Well, you'll understand once you see him, how one man could hold off a mob."

"I see..." Rose started out the door. Then she stopped, and glanced back at the window behind Cornello! "What?"

Puck ducked.

"Is something wrong my child?" Asked Cornello.

"No, I just thought... For a second, I thought I saw a green glow behind you..."

The Father smiled. "Perhaps it was a sign. Yes, that sounds about right. I shall end my seclusion tomorrow, and once again give sermons on the temple steps. Thank you Rose, for spotting Leto's summons!"

"Oh, I... Yes, Father. Thank you, I shall be there! It will be good to see the Sun God's works again..."

And the door closed.

Puck frowned. _That was no sign, that was me. I'll have to remember her face and stay out of her view..._

He peeked back over. Cray was talking to Cornello now. "I'll let the Templars know that you're ending your seclusion, Father. We'll have a dozen guards at the Temple steps tomorrow."

"No need, Cray. No need at all. Now that the Ishbalans are gone, who here in this city remains to oppose Leto's works? Incidentally, thank you for carrying out Leto's will, in that matter."

Cray sighed.

"I don't like having to lie to Rose."

"It's not a lie, Brother Cray. The Ishbalans did move on of their own will. The fact that you and the Templars carried his message of what would happen to them if they did not move on... Well, that's incidental. Leto forgives you, this minor evasion."

Puck's ears perked up.

"In any case, rest easy. You've earned it, Brother Cray. Oh, and after you leave, let that... Guts, was it? Yes, that Guts fellow know I wish to see him for dinner."

"Leto's will be done." And Cray left.

Cornello smiled, and leaned back into the sun beam coming through the window. It blinded and disoriented anyone looking straight on into it at this time of day, which was why he had his desk situated the way it was. Easier to look someone over, when they couldn't look at you straight on...

"Well, that was interesting. I wonder just what "Leto" would have done to those scummy refugees?" Puck blinked. _That's Cray's voice! But he just left..._

Cornello whipped his head to the side, and looked at the open door to the adjoining suite. "What? Who?" A ring on his finger sparkled red in the light, as he put his hand on his cane...

"Relax, your secrets are safe, "Father." We have a mutual acquaintence, a certain woman in black. Well, black and red."

Puck peered around the windowframe, and saw... Cray. It was Cray's voice, it was Cray's features, but...

"You're not Cray." Cornello said. Oddly enough, this seemed to comfort him. He put the cane back behind his desk.

"You're with her, aren't you? Good. Well, you can let her know that I finally got the refugees out of here. Cray carried my words, and told them that Leto couldn't abide lawlessness in his chosen city. That for every day they remained, one of their children would be forfeit."

Puck gasped, and drew back as Cray glanced toward the window. _Not sure if he can see me, and I don't want to take the chance! Who IS he?_

Father Cornello lowered his voice. "Look, I've fulfilled our part of the bargain. But it's running low on power. I've had to go into seclusion for a month in "Meditation", to avoid wearing it out. I'm running low! Please, tell her that I need another to maintain my hold on this backwater city, otherwise..."

"Relax, you're too tense. Here's what you need."

And Puck watched, as the Cornello took something from the figure. With a cry of triumph, he fiddled with his red-stoned ring, and replaced the old stone with a new, larger one. "Perfect, perfect. Yes, I can feel the power in this one."

"Much good may it do you. Oh, and incidentally, you've got State Alchemists sniffing around."

"WHAT? I mean, what?" Cornello quickly lowered his voice.

"Yep, I saw them in the marketplace. A short blonde kid in a red coat and gloves, and a towering guy in full, spiked armor. They're the Elric brothers, and the pipsqueak's called the Fullmetal alchemist."

"State alchemists... Damn, damn. If they start showing people that I've been using Alchemy to make fake miracles..."

Puck gasped again.

"Oh, that's not all the trouble you've got." Cray's tone was faintly mocking.

"Now what?" Cornello asked.

"For one thing, you've got a spy!" Then there was a SNAP, of something like lightning in the room, and Puck glanced back in, poking his head up...

In time to see a large falcon winging straight at him, claws extended!

"AAAAAA!" Puck dropped backwards as the Falcon passed barely inches over him with a WHOOSH! Cornello blinked, and looked out the window, watching the Falcon as it cut back and forth, snatching at seemingly empty air... "What?" He asked, but the room was empty once more.

Puck dove through the statues of the cathedral, the falcon hot on his heels! Though he dodged through pillars, dove through screens and circled around three times, he couldn't seem to shake the persistent bird! Finally, he saw a familiar window, and dove through it shrieking, "GUTSGUTSGUTSGUTSGUTS-"

And he saw Guts raising his arm, the autocrossbow primed and ready, and HEARD the hiss of bolts as they sped toward him...

And past him, to fill the shrieking bird with bolt after bolt while it was illuminated in the sunlight of the window. The falcon was hurled backward, falling from the sky, a dozen quarrels ripping through its stringy flesh.

Puck hit the ground and sobbed, as Guts removed the crossbow, and stowed it in its pouch. Using the bedframe to pull himself up, he limped over to the window and looked down at a cemetary.

And at a dozen quarrels lying among the tombstones, with a small stain around them. No bird. No feathers. No sign that anything had fallen at all, besides the bolts.

He stumped himself back to the bed, and looked at Puck, who choked back his gasps of fear, and stared back at him.

"Guts, something is wrong here, and I don't know what it is, but from what I heard it's pretty bad..."


	14. Laboratory Intrigue

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Back to Central, for a look at our favorite sins…**

**CENTRAL**

On paper, it had been shut down years ago. On paper, it didn't exist anymore. On paper, no one was employed here, and nothing was accomplished. These were the halls of the lost and dead, where the forgotten rotted, and sanity fled.

Things were always so neat and tidy on paper. Real life, well… That was a different matter.

"Eh? Who's there?" The voice echoed out of the skull-like mask, as the armored figure spun around. He wore a mix of fur and metal, and his mitten-like gauntlets gripped a pair of meat cleavers. He didn't have a name anymore, just a number, but he still thought of himself as Barry.

And once again in his hollow life, he was happy. _Someone snuck in! Oooh, someone's inside the fence. I get them now, that's the rule! This'll be perfect, I'll take my time. Tongue first though, so they can't scream so loud…_

He crept through the darkness, his metal feet oddly silent against the cobblestones, and looked around. _Where… There!_

And as he spun around and lifted his knives, two flickers of darkness leaped out at him, heading straight toward his eyesockets… and stopping. He tilted his head, and the lines followed him… and looking down them, he saw that they were elongated fingers, leading back to a solid black glove, up a shapely arm, and a slinky dress covering two lovely plump-

"Ah, it's you." He groaned, and put the cleavers down. This one would kill him in a heartbeat, if he was stupid. She pulled her fingers back in, and they shrunk and warped as they returned to normal size.

"Hello, shell. Is the General in?"

"Yeah. I can send word ahead if-"

"No need." She murmured. Behind her, from the direction of the fence, there was a THUMP. Barry looked over to see the short fat one, and… Someone riding him? Yes, that was right… It was a brownish woman in an ill-fitting dress, giggling as the one called Gluttony hauled her piggyback up to stand beside Lust.

"Huh. We don't get many female prisoners this way. This one a special delivery?" Lust shook her head.

"You're not here to ask questions, shell. Just open the door."

Barry shrugged. "Right, right."

He moved to the wall, and his hands found the switch. Closing it, a section of the wall slid aside, revealing empty corridor yawning into the depths of the structure. "There," he grumbled.

"Good. Keep silent about this, and we may bring you a present next time." The three of them vanished into the depths of Laboratory Number Five, as the wall ground shut behind them.

Leaving Barry the Chopper alone by the wall, dreaming once more of getting his cleavers into some proper, tender _meat_…

----

"A homunculus, you say?" His voice rasped, as he looked over the short, brown woman. She was still and huddled in the corner, staring at the tubes that adorned this room. Each tube held a child-sized motionless creature, each appearing like a small, girl-child with animalistic features. Each had heavy, unstaring eyes. Each was unmoving, save for an occasional breath that sent bubbles through the fluid surrounding them.

Gluttony stared at the girls too. Drooling.

"I'm… Not entirely certain. That's why I need you to check her over, and give me a full report. She may be human, I can't say. In any case, she is not to be harmed, Mister Tucker."

"That will restrict some of the tests I can do with her." Rasped Shou Tucker, as he considered Lust with his upside-down face.

He was an alchemist specializing in chimera, who had ventured too far into forbidden territory in order to find forbidden knowledge. In his efforts to restore his dead daughter, his failures had shaped his body into a furred, misshapen mockery. His torso and arms were inhuman, and his face stared down at the world behind him, twisted up and around until he was staring at everything upside-down and backwards.

He didn't mind so much. Eating and drinking was a chore, but he got by. And one day his work would pay off, and he would be able to hold HER again, hear her bubbling laugh, and watch as she ran and played. _Nina…_

But, first things first. "Hh. Well, I can try to fit her into the schedule. Is this a priority issue?"

"The highest. Also, it's confidential. You'll say nothing of her or any findings related to her to anyone but me. Do you understand, Mr. Tucker?"

His eyes glittered behind his spectacles.

"I understand."

"Good. Now, do you know where General Grand is, right now?"

Shou flipped through his notes, keeping his hands busy while he thought. "Hm. At this hour, he would probably be finishing up the latest transfer of the test subjects."

"Prisoners, you mean." Her smile grew a tiny bit.

Shou frowned. "Well, yes. Still, it sounds better when you consider them as subjects. They're giving their wicked lives for the betterment of the entire nation-"

"Spare me. Come, Gluttony."

Lust made her way to the door, and stopped. Something was holding her back.

She looked down, at the brown hand clutching her skirt. "Ah-huh! Uh! Ghuh…" Pet moaned, rocking back and forth, and looking up at Lust.

Lust blinked, _and she was looking into his eyes as they looked down at her full of tears and she tried to tell him not to be sad, just to go on living and it was okay for they would be united under Ishbala's grace once the wheel turned-_

_NO!_

She forced the memory away, using every ounce of willpower she had. She panted slightly, staring down at "Pet", and struggling to keep her composure.

Her lips moved, as she mouthed silent words, then gently, so gently, a gloved hand came down to rest on Pet's head.

"I'll be back for you. We'll see each other again. Don't worry."

Maybe it was the tone, or maybe by some miracle she understood the words. Pet let go of Lust's dress, and followed by Gluttony, Lust made her way out the door.

Shou blinked, and returned to his work. For a second there, just a few seconds, Lust's face had lost its usual sneer. For a few seconds, there was nothing but sorrow on her face. And… love? _Must have been a trick of the light. _He decided.

A few steps took him to "Pet", as she lay on the floor, looking glumly at the closed door.

"No matter then. Come on. We've got work to do."

And as he picked her up from the floor, the madwoman started to wail.

Outside, in the corridor, Lust walked slowly, her heels clicking on the metal floor. _What just happened there? I haven't had that vivid a memory in… Was she the trigger?  
_There was a burning sensation in her eyes, and carefully, she put her gloved hand up to them. She lifted the hand away, and looked at them in the dim light.

_Nothing. Not tears then, of course not._

_  
Only humans cry, after all. Not living dolls. Not poorly-made copies._

But the words kept echoing through her mind, even as her feet found the way to General Basque Grand. And she knew that she'd said them once before. Once, when she had a soul_. "I'll be back for you. We'll see each other again. Don't worry."_

---

**CENTRAL: The Next Morning**

"Thank you, General Grand. You are dismissed."

General Basque Grand, the Ironblood alchemist, saluted his leader and shut the door as he left.

King Bradley sat back in his chair, and rubbed his chin as he thought the situation over. Finally, he pushed the call button, and his secretary's voice answered. "Juliet, do I have any appointments in the next half-hour?"

"No sir."

"Good. Come in here a minute, would you?"

He pulled the curtains shut, as "Juliet Davis" made her way into the comfy, oak-panelled office. Turning around, his smile had gone, and Pride considered Sloth once more.

"She's made her next move. General Grand was just in here, requesting confirmation on an order. Apparently, he's to turn over the bulk of the red stone stores to "My Agent".

"Also known as Lust."

Sloth's eyes narrowed. "Why would Dante want that many from us? We just sent her half of all we had earlier in the week…"

Pride noticed the "Us", but didn't let his smile show on his face.

"Why, it might have something to do with this telegram that I received back from Dublith this morning."

He handed it to Sloth, who read it over, scowling. "Telegram undeliverable stop. Mrs. Dante's mansion destroyed by inexplicable cataclysm four nights ago stop. No survivors found stop."

She let it drop back to the table. "What does this mean?"

"It means that Lust was the last one of us to see Dante, before this "Mysterious Cataclysm." And she came back from Dublith after the Cataclysm hit. There's no way she would have missed something like this. It begs the question, then…"

"…Why didn't she mention this to us? And what happened to Dante?" Finished Sloth.

"And what possible reason would she have not to tell us if something HAD happened…"

"…Unless she's the one who caused it to happen." Sloth finished again.

"And now she's delivering orders that we're not to speak of to each other. I wonder… Have you seen Envy since Lust arrived?"

"No, I haven't." Sloth was finishing the equation, and not liking what it added up to. "And now she wants a large amount of flawed stones. Our stones."

Pride stood in the shadows, the light cascading down his craggy face as he looked out the window. "There's only one explanation."

"She's pulled a coup." Sloth finished.

The two were silent for a second, considering the implications.

"What WERE your orders?" Asked Pride.

"To meet her at the train station, in about a week, and to say nothing of them to anyone else. What were yours?"

"A notice that she'd be running some errands around Laboratory number Five, and to ensure cooperation of all personnel there with her requests, no matter how strange they sounded. And to speak of them to no one else."

Sloth sighed. "What a pain. I wonder what she thinks she can accomplish."

"She could accomplish nothing by this. At least, she couldn't with Dante alive."

Sloth's eyes went wide. "You don't think…"

"I do. In fact, the only reason it hasn't worked, is that she didn't know about the phone. I'm glad that I made that suggestion to Dante last month…"

"But… How… How will we ever become human, if she's killed Dante? What will we do? What was she thinking?"

Pride shook his head. "She's always been a spider, with her long fingers in countless webs. She probably has an alchemist lined up, or she's found an alternate method. She knows something… And she found a way to get the drop on Dante. We'll have to approach this carefully."

Sloth nodded. "What do you suggest?"

"Oh, I suggest nothing. I've already given the orders, and set things in motion. She'll be back in a week to pick up the red stones, after all."

Pride smiled, and slipped back into his chair. "The first rule of war. If you know where your enemy will be, your attack cannot fail…"


	15. The Meeting

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Okay, enough delay. Time for our protagonists to meet…**

**LIORE**

"…And that's all I heard, before the bird came at me."

"Bird?" Guts asked.

"Yeah! I heard this crackle, then when I looked in again, this falcon tried to grab me! I was almost lunch…" Puck quivered, holding his head in his hands.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Hello?" Came a female voice, and Puck dove under the bed. "It's her! She can see me, gotta hide, you're on your own…"

"Sorry, what was that?" The girl sounded puzzled, and Guts hastily stowed his autocrossbow away in its pouch. "I said, come in."

"Right, right. Sorry, for a second there you sounded- I don't know, my ears must be playing tricks on me." The door opened, to reveal a pink-haired girl, her hands full of towels and cloth, balancing a tray with a jug of water on top.

"Anyway, I'm Rose, pleased to meet-" Rose stopped and stared, as Guts looked back.

"Sweet Leto, what have you been through?" She whispered, taking in the scarred, bloody, maimed man in front of her. The water jug slipped from the tray, and shattered on the floor, as she jumped. "Oh! Oh no, I'm sorry…"

"It's okay." Guts pointed. "That fountain in the next room had plenty of water, I drank my fill."

Taking her eyes from Guts for a second, she glanced to where he was pointing. "Oh, you mean the sink? Well, that's okay, it's just that the pipes get a little rust in the water, so it's not the cleanest…"

"Sink? Is that the little fountain with the standing water in there?" Guts scratched his head.

"Standing wat-" Rose looked, straight at the toilet. "Ulp! Uh… You're.. uh… not supposed to drink from that…"

"Huh? Why's that?" 

She told him. By the end of the explanation, she was blushing and Guts was faintly green under his grime. "…And then you pull the lever, and flush. That puts in fresh water and takes away…"

"I get the picture, thanks."

"You've never seen a toilet before?"

"I'm not from around here."

"You must be from far off, then… Or have you never seen a city before? I thought most towns had at least water-closets now…"

"Well, I'm from someplace that isn't as nice as this."

"I see." Again, her eyes played over his injuries.

"Ah, anyway, Father Cornello wants to have dinner with you, if you feel up to it. You might want to freshen up first, though, uh…"

Guts smiled. "Yeah, I know. So, is there a well around here anywhere? I could stand to wash a bit."

"Well? No, but- Oh, right. You didn't know about _that_ so you wouldn't know about a bathtub."

"Bathtub?" 

It was as good as it sounded. After Rose demonstrated the tub's faucets and left, he peeled off his grimy clothes, and eased his bulk into the warm water. He winced as the stump of his right leg stung, but aside from that, it was damn near the best thing he'd ever felt.

"Ahhh…" _I think I'm starting to like this world. _"You ought to try this, Elf. Second most fun I've had with my pants off."

"No way! I'd get my wings all soggy." Puck landed on the edge of the tub, and eyed the layers of grit washing off of Guts. "Remember to keep your arm outta there, no sense in wasting good powder."

"I know." Guts submerged his face for a second, scrubbing it clean.

"I wonder what's for dinner?"

"I'll bring you back something. Now that we know there's people here who can see you, it's better if you stay hidden."

"Aww…" Puck kicked at the suds. "C'mon, I've been living off of cactus for days, I could use something that didn't taste like sour socks…"

Guts flicked suds at him, and Puck sputtered as he dodged, nearly falling into the tub. "You JERK!" A storm of suds came flying back as the small sprite sent his wings into overdrive, and Guts was forced to cover his face, chuckling.

"Seriously, though." Puck said, and Guts glanced down at him. "You'll be going in without backup. Are you at least gonna take the sword?"

"Nah."

"Well, how about the knives? And the crossbow?"

"Nah."

"Are you nuts? This guy's rotten! He's a phony priest, with some weird not-Cray Cray, and falcons that come outta nowhere! What if he's some kind of Apostle?"

Guts nodded. "I thought of that. If he is, then this'll let me know." He tapped the brand.

"And if he is, then I'll have one good shot. I'll just have to make it count, is all." He clenched his metal hand.

"Your funeral."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. So, I saw that Rose brought in a crutch with that bundle of stuff she dropped off. Are there any clothes in there?"

There were, and they fit.

---

**One Hour Later**

The large dining room echoed with the sound of silverware on china, as the acolytes cleared away the last round of empty plates from the table, and replaced them with yet another main course. They'd gone through better food than Guts had seen in years.

"A mercenary, you say?"

"Yeah."

"You must have seen part of the troubles in Ishbal, then. Terrible business, truly. Sad that such unbelievers would be so desperate as to spend their lives in fruitless rebellion."

Guts grunted, and picked his teeth with a chicken bone. As evidenced by the spread on the wide oak table, Cornello wasn't the type of priest that believed in eating in moderation. He had the gut to show for it, too.

Guts had taken Father Cornello's measure in the first few minutes of meeting him, and knew that he wanted nothing to do with this "Prophet". And he knew what was coming, too.

"Truly, it's sad when the faithful must defend themselves, against the heathens. But, you've already had to do that once today. However, your skill… Truly, you have been blessed, my son, to fend off an angry mob while so direly injured…"

Yeah, here it was. Guts grunted, to show that he was listening.

"…In fact, it can be nothing less than a sign. Leto gave you strength, my sun, strength that can be used for the betterment of his children! Cray has already told me, that there is room in the Templars for a new recruit… Possibly even a Knighthood, for one who was qualified. Why not stay here, and lend us your strong arms? We can guarantee you food, shelter, and salvation for your eternal soul…"

Guts put the chicken bone down.

"I'm looking for a woman." He said, interrupting the older man's rambling.

Cornello quirked an eyebrow. "Well, Leto forbids the pleasures of the flesh prior to marriage, but I know of several young women among the faithful who are seeking a strong husband…"

"No. I'm looking for a woman, she would have shown up about four days ago. Dark skin like an Ishbalan, but with black eyes. About a foot and a half shorter than me. Black, curly hair. She's mad, and can't talk in words, simple-minded."

"And I need to find her."

Cornello listened in silence, and considered.

"No… I don't think we've had any travelers come through here like that… I'm sure I would have seen it in a report."

Guts rose, tucking his crutch under his arm. "Thanks for dinner."

"My son, you never did give me an answer to my offer…"

"I need to find her. It's important."

Cornello spluttered. Guts started making his way to the door, the crutch hitting the marble floor with repeated _Tak-tak_ sounds.

"How dare… I mean to say, my son, it is late, and the city gates are closed. Come, stay the night. In the morning, I'll ask Cray to check with the guards, and see if they've seen anyone like that at the gates." Cornello was smiling that false smile again, but Guts was listening with half an ear. He was staring above Cornello's head, at an alcove with a stained glass window,

And the tiny green sprite, crouched on it, staring down at him. _What's Puck doing here? He agreed to stay in the room… Damn, what if someone sees him?_

He forced himself to look down at Cornello, who was beaming at him in what he seemed to think was a fatherly manner.

"All right." Said Guts. "Thanks for the hospitality."

"Oh, it's nothing, my son. Merely Leto's command." Cornello gestured, his red-stoned ring flashing in the light.

Guts nodded, and left.

Cornello sat back, waving the waiters away. After a minute, the room was empty, and the bald priest was left study the table.

From behind him, he heard a fluttering THUMP. He didn't bother to look around.

"He was behind that spy, all right." It was Cray's voice, again. Cornello frowned. "Looked right at me, saw me, and stopped his reaction. I could see it in his eye, he recognized that shape."

"He's got a damned good poker face. I couldn't read him at all. Whatever that scarred bastard's been through, it's made him hard and deadly." Cornello muttered, gnawing on the remains of a spare rib. "He wasn't interested in a job, though. A real pity, I can use men like that."

"In the end, he's just human. You've got plenty of other minions to scurry and kneel for you." Not-Cray took a seat, and helped himself to an apple, studying the green fruit with a sneer. "To follow you blindly, and bring you the best food, the finest comforts… Lay down their lives for you… Oh, I'm sorry, for Leto, I mean. And his prophet on earth."

Cornello shrugged. "They were born to follow. Who am I to deny them their wish?"

"Heh. At any rate, this crippled guy is a threat. Maybe not as much as the alchemists, but I don't like the looks of his pet chimera. I don't know why I can't figure out how it flies, or that invisibility trick that it's got…"

"It's no matter. I'll have him taken care of after my sermon tomorrow, Cray will see to it. He might be good with a sword, but bullets trump blades any day of the week."

Cornello smiled, and Cray laughed, tearing a bite from the green flesh of the apple…

And in the hallway back to the pilgrim's quarters, Guts thumped his crutch steadily along the floor, as he made his way back to his room.

_Dumb sprite. The hell was he thinking? Ah well, at least this answers one question._

Cornello wasn't an apostle. The brand had stayed quiet all through dinner. _Just a normal man. Just corrupt, just greedy. Just a parasite, feeding on the fruits of his flock, and preaching false salvation._

Guts scowled. _It's none of my damn business. How's he different from any other priest? No, I need to get out of here and find Caska…_

He stopped. There was someone standing outside his door. It was a huge man in spiked armor, at least seven feet tall. There was an unfamiliar red symbol on the side of the armored man's arm, some kind of snake and cross.

The man was knocking on his door.

Guts stared at him. "You want something?"

The armored man JUMPED at least a foot in the air, landed lightly, and spun around. "OH! Uh, sorry, you frightened me, I didn't hear you come up…" He rubbed the back of his helm with one gauntlet, looking almost like a kid caught in the middle of mischief.

Guts blinked. _He doesn't move right, for someone wearing all that armor… And his voice, it sounds like he's a kid under all that. Who is this guy?_

"Um, are you the other visitor? My brother and I are new here too, and we've got nothing to do, so we were wondering if you'd like to talk, or play cards, or something…" The armored man pointed across the hall.

Guts looked him over for a second, then nodded. "Sure. I'll meet you there in a minute."

He opened the door, and nearly fell inward as his crutch cracked under him, and gave way! Staggering against the doorframe, the door flew open, and he was left clutching for balance. "Damn!"

"……" He heard the armor shift behind him, and he swung around, reaching for a pouch at his side. _An ambush?_ But no, the armored man was still, looking past him…

"Huh?"

Guts followed his gaze… Straight to a small green figure, curled up in the middle of his bed and snoring.

Guts pulled himself up with the broken crutch, stumped over to the bed, and pulled the sheet up over the sleeping sprite. The little guy was exhausted, he didn't even stir as Guts put a wrapped napkin of leftovers next to him.

"What… What IS that? Is that a chimera? It's so tiny…" Yeah, the armored guy definitely sounded like a kid.

Guts shook his head. "His name's Puck. I'm Guts."

"Oh! Uh, sorry, I'm Al. Alphonse Elric. And my brother is…"

"Al, everything okay? I heard a crash…" The door across the hall opened, to reveal a short teen with blonde hair and golden eyes. He was wearing black clothes, and one of his arms was made of metal…

Guts stared at him. The kid stared back.

"This is my brother, Ed. Edward Elric." Al finished.

"Hey." 

"Hi. Uh, are you all right?"

Guts frowned. _What was it Puck said? Oh yeah... No red coat, but everything else matches._

"This'll sound funny… But are you alchemists?"

Ed's eyes went wide, and Al turned his head to stare at Guts. "What?" The armored man said, shocked. "How'd you… Have you heard of us… I mean…"

"Come in, sit down." Guts moved over to one of the chairs, and eased himself into it.

"There's some stuff you should know, about the head priest here…"


	16. The Night before Battle

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Okay, enough delay. Apologies for the delay, here's the next part of the saga…**

**LIORE**

Ed studied the big man in front of him. Spiky hair, muscles bulging underneath his borrowed templar's outfit, and a single eye that seemed to have a "Thousand-mile-stare" going on.

Even without all of his hideous injuries, he'd be intimidating. This guy had seen more than his share of trouble, and kept on going.

Al was talking again. Ed brought his attention back to the discussion…

"So, he's using that stone to fake miracles? We thought it might be something like that."

"Are you here to stop him?" Asked the man, who'd said his name was Guts.

"Not really." Said Ed. "If that stone's what we think it is, then we're here for that."

Guts' face went cold. "You want to set yourselves up as the new priests? Is that it?"

"NO! No, no, nothing like that." Said Al. "We just need it to… Well…"

"We need it to fix our bodies." Sighed Ed. "If it's what we're looking for, it might be able to do that."

Guts reached over to the table, and took a long drink from a cup of water. Ed watched him, for half a minute. He'd expected the big guy to ask "Fix your bodies, how?" but it didn't look like that was about to happen. It was actually a relief, not hearing that same question again…

So, of course, Al felt like he had to fill in what to him was an awkward silence.

"We… We made a big mistake a few years ago. And we paid for it. But if we find the philosopher's stone, there's a chance-"

"Al." Ed cautioned.

"Brother, just let me ask, please! Do you know? Did he say it was the philosopher's stone? If we're this close, then…"

Ed put his hand on Al's arm, stilling him. He looked back up to see Guts close his eye, considering things for a moment. "I wasn't there. HE was." The big man glanced toward his bed, and tilted his head as if he was listening to something.

"Oh, okay. So there's no way of telling for- Wait! You can TALK?" Said Al. Al was looking at the bed, too. TALKING at the bed!

Ed looked at the two of them. _What the heck? _"Uh, Al? Why are you talking to the bed?"

"I'm not! I'm talking to THAT! What? Oh, sorry, I mean I'm talking to HIM!" Al pointed at the sheets.

Ed felt a drop of sweat slide down his face. "Uh…"

Guts chuckled. "Don't worry about it. Most people here don't see him." He finished off his glass of water, and put it back on the table.

"See what?"

"He's right THERE!" Al pointed. "Whups no, he's moving… ah! Hey, stop that!" Al batted ineffectually at his head, as his helm tilted and shifted.

"Al, I'm getting pretty tired of this joke…" He broke off. Guts was staring at Al, who sighed and put his hands in his lap.

"Yeah, it's true." Said Al. "I'm empty inside. This is part of the price we paid."

Slowly, he reached up to his armor's helm, and twisted it. Removed it.

Revealing nothing, just a hole where his neck was, leading into the breastplate of his armored shell.

Guts looked Al over, reaching a hand back to rub his neck for a second. He brought it back and stared at his fingers, before shrugging and refilling his water cup from the nearby pitcher.

Ed was shocked. _This guy didn't even blink! How can he be so blasé…_

"I see," said Guts. "Well, maybe that stone is that thing you're looking for. Cornello's going to be doing a sermon tomorrow, you can go there and see for yourself."

Ed nodded. Al replaced his armor. "What about you?" Ed asked. "Are you going to stick around?"

He was silent for a minute, then Guts stirred, and shifted in the chair until he was mostly sitting upright. "Hey. Tell me something."

"Yeah?"

"Have you seen a brown-skinned woman, black hair, about five-five, with brown eyes? She wouldn't be able to talk, she's kind of scatterbrained, and acts like a young child." Guts was looking him in the eye.

Ed looked back. "I… Don't think so. Not that I've noticed."

"She would have showed up around four days ago."

"Showed up? From where?"

"Long story." Said Guts. "So, you haven't seen her?"

"No. Brown skin? Well, that's usually a sign of Ishbalan or Southern blood. We did pass some Ishbalans on the way in, they might have seen her. They're not far, if you hurry tomorrow you might be able to catch them…" There was a small creak. Ed looked down to see Guts' fingers squeezing the metal cup tightly, almost bending the thin sides.

"Ah, is… something wrong?" Al asked.

"No, it's just…" Guts' trailed off. "I already asked them."

"That's good." Said Ed. "The way they were talking, they won't be here again anytime soon. Evidently some kind of monster wandered out of the desert and started killing them. And the guards didn't bother to help them. They even saved it, they dragged it inside when it started losing."

Guts was staring down into his cup, watching the water tilt and flow as he turned it around and around. "That what they're sayin', huh?"

"Yeah. Small wonder the Ishbalans left. Though I have to wonder just what that monster was." Ed watched as Guts looked out the window, his lips drawing tight.

"That monster though, do you think it could be a chimera, brother? Cornello might be doing experiments like Tuck-… Like HE was." Al worried.

Ed nodded. "The thought had crossed my mind. From what they were saying, this thing killed ten people in under a minute. We'll have to be prepared, if Cornello created it. Nothing human could be so monstrous…"

Crick. Crack. Ed looked up. The cup was slowly folding in Guts' hand, the thin metal giving way under enormous pressure.

Then he glanced up, and Ed recoiled. _That… That eye! There's so much sadness in that one eye… How could anyone live with such sadness?_

"Yeah. Always good to be prepared." Guts put the cup on the table. "It's getting late, and I need sleep. Gonna have to kick you out."

Ed nodded. "Allright. Thanks for the information."

"No problem." Guts stood, using the chair to pull himself up. He watched as the brothers left.

"Hey." Ed glanced back, and for a second, just a SECOND, there was a little green winged man sitting on Guts' shoulder. He blinked, and the man was gone. There was nothing there.

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that monster at the gate. Call it a hunch."

"Yeah?" Ed asked. _What does he know? What did I see? Did I even see… No, I couldn't have…_

"Yeah." And Guts shut the door.

"Brother, did you see him?"

Ed shook his head. "Not now, Al."

"You were looking right at him, and I saw your face! You saw him too, I could tell!"

"C'mon. Let's get some sleep."

"You DID see him!"

"I don't want to talk about it!"

"Hee hee…"

Back in Guts' room, the big man sat on the bed, Puck kicking his heels next to him.

"Hey, it's okay. They didn't know… If they'd known the whole story, they wouldn't have said…"

"Skip it." Guts stared out the window. "It's a tough world. They'll learn sooner or later."

He lay back on the bed. "S'funny, though. Most everyone I've met here who wasn't trying to kill me has been treating me like a cripple."

"But those two didn't." Said Puck.

"Nope, they didn't. I like that."

In the room across the hall, Ed was lying back on one of the beds, Al sitting on the other. After ten minutes of arguing, the subject of little green men had been declared taboo for the near future.

Al watched Ed toss and turn.

"He seemed really sad."

"He was, Al. More than anyone should have to bear."

"I wonder why?"

"You really want to know?"

"That's what alchemists do, isn't it? Find out the answers to all the questions, even the painful ones?"

"Heh. Yeah."

Ed flexed his metal arm, studying it in the lamplight.

"It's funny, though. You know how most everyone usually treats us…well, me like a kid?"

"But he didn't." Said Al.

"Nope, he didn't. I like that."

The night passed uneventfully.


	17. Cray's last Stand

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Woohoo, we broke the 30 review mark! Thanks gang, for your positive comments to date. It really makes a difference! And don't worry. Though this'll take some time to tell, I'll keep on telling it. There may be delays, but it won't die before it ends...**

**LIORE**

The crowd cheered, as a new statue was created. Father Cornello raised his arms, basking in the adoration of his faithful. And two children, one armored and one red-coated, watched him carefully.

As did a one-eyed, one-legged man, leaning unnoticed in the back of the crowd on a newly reinforced crutch. He watched, as did a small green head, poking out from his cape.

No one took notice as Guts looked down at Puck, and murmured. "Can you make anything of it?"

"Kind of... It's weird. It feels... Off. Rigid. Magic is loose and flexible normally, but this is ordered. You'd think that'd be good, but... It feels WRONG, too. There's pain in there, a lot of pain every time he does a "Miracle". Pain and death."

"It's definitely coming from that ring, though. It shines like a beacon to my eyes when he activates it."

Guts held up his hand. There were thin drops of blood on the fingertips. "I'm feeling it too."

Puck's eyes went wide. "The Brand!" Sure enough, it was bleeding. Not steadily, not heavily, but there was a tiny drop leaking out every time Cornello called up a miracle.

Puck whipped his head around. "Guts, we gotta let people know! If this guy's an apostle, or even a disciple... Think of the sacrifice he could be lining up here in Liore! The whole town..."

Guts shook his head.

"I had dinner with the guy, remember? Not a peep out of the brand. And you're sure you weren't there?"

"Positive! I'm telling you, I don't know what you saw, but it wasn't me..."

"He's not a disciple or apostle, and that makes him not my problem."

"But, the whole town could-"

"I don't care. I need to find Caska."

"But what if-"

"She's not here. So, I'll have to look somewhere else. At least I've got directions to the next city, now."

Puck looked away.

"I don't like it." The little elf finally replied.

Guts didn't reply. And soon, the Tak-tak-tak of his crutch carried them both away from the crowd.

Behind them, the crowd cheered one last time, as birds rose into the sky... And one among them followed the limping swordsman with cruel eyes.

And Envy smirked to himself, as he winged after the man in black.

**THIRTY MINUTES LATER**

Guts had lied to the brigands at the gate. He had a small stash of coins on him when he came to this world, and although the merchants didn't seem to recognize the coins themselves, they were happy enough to weigh and take some of his silver. Newly loaded with a backpack full of water and trail food, he passed through the unguarded western gate. The refugees were truly gone, leaving only litter and disturbed sand to show their passing. Guts shook his head, surveying the empty patch for a minute.

"Looking over your handiwork?" It was an unfamiliar voice, and Guts couldn't tell if it was that of a man or a woman.

He looked around. _Didn't even hear anyone approach..._ Puck peeked out of his pocket, and flittered his wings nervously.

The... person, was leaning against the wall of Liore, smirking at him, with its eyes shut. It was small and thin and young, dressed in a shiny black armless top, and some sort of loose pants. It had sandle-like footwraps, and spiky green hair that shot out in all directions.

It had a red symbol on its leg, that looked like some sort of reptile biting its own tail.

Guts stared at... him, for a minute. "No. Just looking at the road ahead."

The youth opened an eye, and its smirk got wider. "Actually, your road's pretty short. You're going to come down with a bad case of death."

Guts looked him in the eye. "Yeah?" One hand casually flipped back his cloak, and Puck buzzed up to his shoulder, ready to get clear...

"Oh, not from ME. It seemed that you refused an offer that the good Father didn't want you refusing. That and you poked your nose into places that it shouldn't have been. With that little spy there, I mean." The youth opened both eyes, and gestured at Puck, who squeaked.

"You can see me?"

"Yes, actually. Funny, isn't it? How no one else can... I've been trying to figure that one out. And how you can fly with such flimsy wings."

"FLIMSY? Why you little androgynous bishie-boy!"

The youth laughed, and there was no humor in his voice. "So, I figured I'd give you an offer before Cornello's stupid minions caught up to you. Give me your pet, and I'll take care of it. Might even feed it once in a while. And it'd be a real shame if something happened to it in the crossfire."

Guts quirked a smile. "Not going to offer me a trade for him? For sparing my life, or something along those lines?"

"HEY! I have a name, you know..."

The youth'sgaze slid over to Puck, and the elf quivered, and ducked. _His eyes! What kind of monster IS he?_

"Actually, I didn't know that. And that makes me even more curious... But no, I'm not going to offer you your life. You're not that interesting, just another soon-to-be-dead human."

"Yeah, I can see your point. Fact is, though..."

Guts stopped smiling, and glared at the green-haired teenager. "He's not mine to trade. He goes where he wants to."

"Oooh, scary..." The youth yawned. "How noble of you, though. Ah well, I'll just grab him after you're dead then. Hey bug, try not to catch a bullet before then."

"BUG! Why you little palm-tree-pated ball-less wonder..."

Feet pounded the cobblestones leading to the gate.

"Well, that's your death squad. Time for me to head out, for now."

There was a brief burst of energy, and the youth SHRUNK, twisting inward until there was nothing left... but a falcon, hovering in midair, its wings flapping to keep it aloft. With a piercing cry, it launched itself past the stunned duo, and winged its way into the distance.

Puck looked at Guts. Guts looked at Puck.

"You felt it?" Asked Puck.

"Yep." There was a little fresh blood on his brand. "Felt different, but there was still pain."

"Now he, HE might be a demon of some sort. Those EYES, and that power..."

"Later." Murmured Guts, as he propped himself up on his crutch, and looked at the three figures that had just stepped out of the arch of the gate. The two moving out to the sides, not taking their eyes from him, were unfamiliar men in Templar's habits. The man in the center...

"Hey Cray. What happened to you?"

There was a knot on the side of his head, but it didn't interfere with the big man's glare, as he pointed at Guts.

"Demon. Father Cornello told me the truth about you."

"Did he? Mind letting me in on what the truth is, this week?"

Cray growled, and chopped his hand to the side. The templars reached into their robes, and drew out odd little metal contraptions.

_They're holding them like weapons. I don't know what they are... Not good._

"I may have failed against the alchemists, but I'll redeem myself with your head."

Guts sighed, and closed his eye for a second. "You don't want to do this."

"Speak not your lies, unholy scum!"

Cray started to draw his own metal contraption from his vest. Guts watched, his hand sliding up to his chest, and the bandolier across it...

"The Father blessed our bullets especially against demons! And while you're an unholy terror with that sword, we won't get close enough to-AGH!"

There was a knife sticking out of Cray's hand, and his weapon was knocked aside! Puck blinked, then flew up for all he was worth, as the other two templars yelled, and fire, smoke, and noise roared from their hands!

And then, there was silence.

Puck looked down. "Oh no! No..." _Those things are like small cannons_, he realized. _And even the strongest of men can't do much against a cannon round..._

Guts was lying sprawled on the ground, his drawn sword covering the upper half of his body, held loosely in one twitching hand.

Dents marred its surface, and from below him, a red stain pulsed out to puddle on the sand.

One of the Templars was down, a knife hilt quivering in his eye socket.

The other was slumped against the wall, three knives buried in his entrails. He choked on his own blood, as he tried to fumble them out.

Cray looked about him in horror. "Brothers... what..."

He marched over and seized his fallen pistol with his left hand, folding his bloody fingers in his habit.

"Stay, stay a second, I will tend to you when we are done with our task..."

For a few seconds, he eyed the fallen figure of Guts.

Guts didn't stir.

"Truly, you're a demon of death. Fitting enough, that I take your head with your own sword."

He moved to the fallen figure and nudged it with his foot, to no response.

With a grim smile, he reached down, and grabbed the hilt of the sword, levering it up with both hands, grunting and straining as his blood dripped down to mix with the pool below...

"Hey."

He looked down.

Down into the muzzle of Guts' artificial arm, as the hand apparatus slid back, and a cord leading to it was currently clenched between the swordsman's teeth.

_The sword! He was hiding this under the sword..._

Cray let go of the sword, and brought his pistol around slowly, so slowly as the huge slab of iron started to fall, and Guts jerked the cord to the side. Cray watched in horror, as deep within the muzzle sparks caught, and flared...

"Sorry, Cray."

BOOM

Guts got his hand up in time to catch his own sword, before it crushed his chest and head.

It also provided a convenient shelter, as pieces of Cray rained down around him.

A minute later, he dragged himself up, and Puck fluttered down. "Guts! You're okay!"

Puck looked at the puddle of blood on the sand below him, and the steadily pumping hole in his side.

"Uh, are you?"

"Those things hit like sledgehammers. Got the sword around to block most of them, but one tagged me."

He glared at the surviving templar, who had pried the last knife out of his guts. The man was looking back and forth from his gun, to Guts.

Guts smiled, all clenched teeth. "Try it."

The templar fainted.

Guts sagged, and coughed. Puck swooped in, anxiously. "Hey! You're bleeding pretty bad, hold still and let me...

"Hang on." Guts pushed him back.

"What? Look, you're spraying all over the desert, here!"

"I can still feel something in my side. Arrowhead or something."

He pulled out a knife. Puck groaned and looked away, knowing what was coming.

After a minute, the sounds of meat being peeled ceased, and he looked back. The wound was bleeding more now, and Guts was staring at a black, jagged chunk of metal in his hand. Puck fluttered over and threw sparkling dust into the wound, sighing as the blood-flow finally stopped, and scabbed over.

Guts was still looking at the tiny piece of metal.

"I'd wondered."

"What? Look, sit down, you've lost blood..."

"I'd wondered why no one here carried a sword. Guess this answers that."

He looked at the dents in his sword.

"Actually, don't sit down! We just killed two, maybe three guards if that guy doesn't recover... We need to go! If we escape far enough into the desert..."

Guts grinned, and pocketed the metal bit.

"Not gonna work. I'm slow now, and Cornello would just send more templars. What do you think these weapons will do to me on open ground, with three or four times this number of men?"

Puck blinked. He imagined it for a second... "Ouch..."

"Yeah."

"So what now?"

"Cornello wants me dead, figure I'll give him another shot at it." He was grinning.

And Guts started back into the city.

"Well... That's one decision made..." Said Puck.

He spared a look back at the bodies littering the sand, and the fresh blood already soaking into the dry ground.

"I just wish... I just wish that ONCE, we could enter these gates without killing good people, misled by bad reasons..."

And as people once more came to investigate the noise of fighting, and found only corpses, the Black Swordsman again made his way into Liore...


	18. Leaving Liore

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. **

**So, a comment came up on a review recently, and I'd like to talk to it here. It's a very good criticism, and I don't mind answering it at all. The comment was,**

I have to ask about how Guts managed to throw the daggers, draw his sword, and guard himself with only one truly functional hand. Also, I think that Guts has shown two much ability with only one leg. The Dragon is far to large for even Guts to swing around without good balance.

**The thing to realize, is that both Berserk and Full Metal Alchemist have only a passing relationship to reality. While they stick to it to a degree, FMA moreso than Berserk due to pseudo-scientific explanations and wounds hurting more, they still obey the laws of drama and anime. Winry can pound Ed on the head with a wrench without giving him a concussion. Guts can cough up blood every other fight without having permanent trauma to his internal organs.**

**Now, this isn't exactly a fair answer. I agree, Guts is acting a little superhuman in this. One man against three shooters? Should be paste. However, Guts is a little more than a normal man, no matter how much his enemies protest. Lemme tell you why.**

**1. Guts is freakin' fast, especially on the draw. We learn that in book 1 of the manga, where he draws and chops a bandit in half when the guy's sneaking up behind him. He stays obscenely fast on the draw and swing through 29 books to date, and he wouldn't be alive if he wasn't... :) **

**2. No one in the FMA world has seen as much up-close violence and death as Guts. He's fought and killed more men and monsters in his life than pretty much anyone alive in the FMA world. He's a hardened combat veteran, and while normal people are pausing to think and plan how they're going to fight, he just reacts. No one in the FMA world has seen more up-close violence and conflict than he has. No one. You give him a second, you're already dead. You'd need superhuman reflexes, or you'd need to be damned good to keep up with him, because you're NEVER going to match him in experience with close-combat fighting.**

**3. The Dragon Slayer sword weighs more than 200 pounds. I'm not kidding about this! I've seen it calculated out on message boards on fansites... With that much iron, even if you mixed in a little steel, it comes to an absurd amount of weight. 230 pounds is conservative! A normal person, even one bulked out on steroids and PCP would be looking at broken arms or worse if he tried to wield it like Guts does.**

**4. Guts has two good hands. One's just prosthetic, that's all. In the books, he's shown pretty much full range of motion with his metal left hand, up to and including wielding the Dragon Slayer with it for short amounts of time. So, even while the sand and grit has clogged it a bit here in dusty Liore, it's still a frickin' amazing prosthetic. Stick with the story a bit until Winry gets ahold of it, and you'll find out just HOW amazing Godo's masterpiece is.**

**4. The missing leg IS a problem. It's why he was being overwhelmed by the angry mob until the templars stepped in, when he tried to get into Liore. It interferes with the way he fights using the sword, and his movement at all times... Which is why he's had to break out the cannon twice in as many days. He'd be minced right now if he tried using his normal tactics. Hell, he basically got shot by action-movie-extras, when the templars opened fire on him, because he couldn't move so well. No-name characters wounded him! That's a nod to reality right there, though not a big one.**

**I understand that it's a little jarring when you read something that goes outside of your expectations and rationalizations. If so, this might not be the story for you. This is a saga, and he's one of the heroes. Reality gives way to drama, when it makes for a cooler story. **

**Thanks for reading to this point, and I hope that you're willing to continue, even after I felt like getting this off my chest. :D Hopefully, it prevents some disappointment in the future. And now, on to the show...**

**LIORE**

Smoke was rising from the cathedral.

Not much, and only white smoke, but it was definitely out of place.  
Behind him were shouts, as Liore's townsfolk found the carnage at the deserted gate. Ahead of him were shouts, as townsfolk stopped what they were doing and hurried toward the temple, worrying about the trouble that had struck their beloved monument to Leto.

And through it all, the black swordsman moved on, limping his way through rapidly-thinning streets. Soon, no one was left to watch him come, tak-tak-ing his way along with the crutch.

"I still don't think this is a good idea. He's got more Templars, and they'll have more hand-cannons. And he's got that ring, whatever it is."

"It's not a great idea." Guts admitted, ignoring the ache in his side. _That weapon hurt. Hand-cannon's a good name for it..._

"Well, at least we've got a distraction, whatever that smoke is. What DO you think it is?"

Guts smiled. This one was an honest smile. "Cray said he failed to take care of the alchemists. After meeting those two, you think they'd let that happen without causing some grief? I think Cornello's in trouble."

Puck laughed. "Ha! You're right, fat baldy won't even know what hit him." He sobered up. "Still, they're just kids, even if one is a ghost in a shell. What can they do against that guy with his dark miracles, and his templar guard?"

Part of the Cathedral collapsed inward, to the shock and cries of the crowd around it.

Guts' smile got a little wider.

"Okay, okay, I'll just settle down now and keep an eye out for falcons... Grumblebrumblemutter..."

**AN HOUR LATER**

The town was on edge, and this made things more difficult. Guts hadn't counted on trouble at the Cathedral when he went to confront Cornello, or the resulting mob of people gathered around, searching for reassurance from their prophet.

If he tried to go in now, he'd have to wade through the blood of the faithful. Or end up dragged down by them... The odds weren't in his favor, no matter how many times he looked at the situation.

So, he bided his time in a dusty side-street and waited, sitting on a stone bench between two bearded statues. Occasionally, people would pass him by with curious looks, but this was a quiet part of town at this time of day. Still, he knew he'd have to move on in a little while. He sat in silence, and Puck was oddly silent too, watching every living thing suspiciously.

He was being hunted by a shapeshifter, after all.

And that was how the brothers found him, resting in the shade, his back to the city wall. He watched them approach from behind the sun, and saw how Ed stopped, and squared his shoulders before walking up to stand 20 feet away from him. The kid's pants leg was shredded, and there was metal underneath. His eye opened wide. _Metal? A false leg, too? _This was a new hope, but he hid it well. Ed was angry, and now was not the time to ask.

He watched how Al trailed behind his older brother, more nervous than usual.

"Hey." He said. _I know what's coming..._

"We had a fight with Cornello a little while ago." Said Ed, glaring.

"I saw the smoke."

"He used chimera... monsters, you could say, to fight us. But none of them was vicious enough to be a ten-man killer. So I asked him why he was holding that in reserve."

Guts nodded, eye half-shut. "I told you, you didn't have to worry about the monster at the gate."

"Damn it!" Ed howled, punching a nearby statue with his metal arm. The statue's robes chipped, and shards peppered the wall.

Guts didn't move.

"Why?" Al asked. "Why did you kill them? We didn't believe it from Cornello, but Rose was there... "

That was enough for Puck. He leaped out of Guts' cloak, and buzzed up to Guts' shoulder, pointing and shouting. "He didn't have a choice! Two thieves jumped him, and those people did nothing! And when he fought them off, those Ish-ka-bibble people came after him! He HAD to defend himself! And you know what? They were angry because he killed the thieves, sure, but what REALLY got them scared and angrier was that they said he used alchemy! ALCHEMY!"

Guts shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

Al recoiled. "What? Alchemy? Is that why... Did you... I mean, are you an alchemist?"

The wind blew down the street, catching Guts' cloak for a second, and fluttering the tattered cloth in the wind.

Ed glared him in the face, not moving a muscle. Guts looked back, evenly.

"Ten people dead." Whispered the older Elric brother. "And it doesn't matter?"

"He's NOT an alchemist! He's just a good fighter!" Screamed Puck.

Al shook his head. "A good fighter doesn't kill innocents. You can knock someone unconscious, or get away. Killing shouldn't be the only way!"

"Hey! You looked at his leg recently? MISSING, HELLO? How could he get away on that? Why, if he wasn't crippled, none of this would have-"

"Enough." Guts grabbed the sprite, interrupting him in mid-rant. He looked back into Ed's eyes, and knew that no other explanation than the truth would work.

"It doesn't matter how it happened, just the end result. And it doesn't matter how many, ten or ten thousand."

Ed glared.

"I'm going to find her. I'm going to save her if she's in danger, and guard her against everything that would harm her. I'm going to keep on doing this, even if this entire world's against me." Guts explained.

"Ten people? Hell, that's nothing. You heard right the first time, kid." Guts sneered.

Ed's face flushed, and his hands clenched into fists.

"A monster DID come to Liore. And I'm it." The words felt like jagged metal, and a part of him burned to say it. Worse, he wasn't sure if it was a lie... He hid the pain, and waited to see Ed's response. _C'mon kid, get disgusted and leave. The alternative is not gonna be fun..._

"Then we should stop you here." Said Ed, taking a step closer.

The wind blew down the street again, and Al looked back and forth between Puck and his brother. "Ed! I'm not sure... I mean... If he was defending... OOOH!"

Guts reached out for his crutch, and stood. Al flinched. Ed stood firm, and brought his arms up in a fighting stance.

"Don't." Said Guts.

The big man looked down on the small figure before him. _Damn. He means it. Am I going to have to fight him too? I don't want this. I played this wrong. All right, let's try reason._

"I'm going to kill Cornello. Don't get in my way."

"Like hell you are."

Guts raised an eyebrow. "What? He's no innocent, not by a long shot. Cray made it plain enough, it's him or me now."

"And where's Cray now?"

Guts looked away, before he could catch himself. Al sighed.

"He didn't deserve that, and you know it." Ed hissed, his right arm shifting as a blade slid from it. "Sure, he attacked us, but he was just a dupe."

"Which is why Cornello needs to die. Next time it'll be this whole town. You'd defend that leech, to sacrifice so many?"

Ed's face filled with fury.

Guts put his hand on his sword's hilt.

Al panicked. "WAIT!"

The two looked at him, and he waved his hands. "Don't! Stop! Look... We'll take care of him."

Guts didn't move his hand. "How will you do that?"

"We'll figure something out. We'll expose him, and then the town will be safe. No one will follow him anymore..."

Guts looked Al in the eyeslit. "You can do that? He's got these people pretty fooled."

"They're good people, and he's been holding them with lies and trickery. We can show them the truth. We WILL show them the truth. Have faith in them! Have faith in Rose..." Al's voice steadied, and he stood up straighter. _They're listening!_

Ed looked back at Guts. "That's how it is. You leave, and you leave this to us. We can handle Cornello."

Guts looked down at him, staring for a minute. _He doesn't want a fight either. But he will, to save their lives. Even the life of that damned priest. How can I... _

"All right." The Swordsman sighed. "Try it your way, it doesn't matter to me. But..."

Guts loomed over Ed, his face serious. "If you have to, kill him. If there's no other way, you don't hesitate. Because he won't."

Ed glared back. "Leave, and never come back. And pray that we never meet again." The blade slid back into his arm, and Ed stalked off down the street. "C'mon, Al."

"Just a minute, brother!"

He moved closer to Guts, and Puck followed him with a curious look. Guts raised an eyebrow, and took his hand away from his sword. "Now what do you want?"

"Um... What Puck said... And I'm not being insulting, or anything... but..."

Guts waited.

"If you had both legs, could you have not killed all those people? Would you have let them live? I mean, could it not have been..."

Guts stared at him. His voice was hoarse, and for a second he started to speak, then stopped. Finally, he got the words out.

"I don't know. But I think I could have. And I would've, if I could."

Al nodded.

"All right." From a pouch on his side, he took out a piece of paper, and wrote a few sentences on it. He folded it, and handed it to Guts, who took it with a quizzical look.

"This is a set of directions, and a letter to a great mechanic who can make you a leg. Just... Just don't kill anyone."

Guts looked at the paper for a long minute. Then he handed it to Puck, who tucked it away in his cloak. He looked back to Al. "Why are you doing this?"

Al shook his head. "I... I don't know. I think you're a good person, who's had to do some bad things."

"And I think I'll be helping people. You might have to fight a lot more, if you're really going to guard that woman like you said."

"I am."

"This way, you can fight without killing. Or you can run. Really, she does good work, just show her that letter and she'll help you."

"...Thanks..."

For a minute, the two looked at each other, the empty armor to the hollow man. Finally, Guts put out his hand, and Al shook it.

From down the street, there was a flare of energy. Both looked around to see a gaping hole opened in the wall around Liore, and Ed standing next to it, glaring.

"Here." He waved them over.

"This way you can leave without killing your damned way through half the city."

"Thanks."

"Just go, and don't let the door hit your ass on the way out."

"Remember what I said." Guts collected his crutch, and limped out.

"Go. The next time I see you, you'll answer for what you've done." Ed muttered.

And Ed sealed the wall behind him.

He looked behind him, to see Al looking mournfully at the wall. "He had his reasons, brother. I don't think he was a monster..."

"Leave it. We've got to deal with the OTHER monster now."

Al bit back his words, as the loudspeakers around Liore crackled to life, calling for the townsfolk to rise up against the assassins who came for Leto's prophet on Earth.

"No one dies." Whispered Ed, as they ran, looking for the right place to fight. "How can we do this so no one-" And then, the idea came to him.

"Hey Al, want a twin?"

"What?"

One clap of Ed's hands later, and a statue was transformed into a duplicate of Al. "What are you doing, brother?"

"I've got an idea, here's the plan..."

**TWO MILES FROM LIORE **

Once they were well away from the wall and the sun was setting, Guts dug out the letter, and stared at it, gloom in his face.

"What's wrong?" Puck piped up.

Guts just stared at the small scrap of paper. A drop of sweat worked his way down his head.

"Hey, Elf?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you read?"

"Uh, no."

"That makes two of us..."


	19. The Sun Sets

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Thanks again for your great reviews… And no, at this time I don't have a webpage. Always meant to get one, but never got around to it. Anyone have any recommendations for a good host?**

**LIORE  
**

The desert city shimmered in the noon-day sun, and the distant sound of shouts and crashing echoed throughout the dusty metropolis. And from the desert, two cloaked strangers picked their way through the sand, towards civilization. One was short and fat, and the other tall and sleek.

**  
**There were no guards at the gate to greet them, merely the smell of old, spilled blood. The fat one sniffed with joy, and muttered it over and over again as they walked through the streets. "Blood, blood, in buckets and floods… Blood, blood…" Angry faces watched them from the shadows of buildings, and broken windows showed testament to arguments and theft.

But no one bothered the strangers.

They paused a second, to watch a group of grim-faced men tearing down a stone statue of a bearded man wielding a staff. At one time these statues had moved to their maker's command, acting as the silent army of a revered god. But now, like any other fallen idol, they crumbled before sledgehammers and steel rods, and the scorn of their former worshippers.

Metal broke stone, and faith was gone.

The taller figure turned to the fatter one. Her voice was a breath of cool air in the desert heat.

"He's got a lot to answer for."

Gluttony laughed.

**LIORE'S CATHEDRAL: ONE HOUR LATER**

"Half-dead. The backlash warped his arm. He broke the stone, his right-hand man turned up missing an upper body, and his guards deserted him. He's locked himself on the top floor, but his congregation will come looking for him with torches and pitchforks soon enough."

"He's useless."

The green-haired youth smiled, kicking his feet on the roof as he sat on the edge of the Cathedral's viewing walkway. The people below milled and shouted, as they tore statues down. And not a one of them looked up.

No one saw the Sins.

"So. All this was due to those state alchemists?"

"Mmhm. Though the short one did most of the work." Envy gestured at the remnants of a giant stone statue. "That was his, he used it to smash apart baldy's other creations."

"I've heard of this one, he's called the Fullmetal Alchemist." Lust mused. "I didn't know he was this good. And you're sure his "Brother" was a trapped soul?"

"Positive. I got a real good look at him when Cray botched the kill. Sorry, I mean botched the FIRST kill."

"FIRST kill?"

"Long story. There's another alchemist running around, but he cut and ran. He didn't seem to be after the stone, so I figured he didn't fit the profile."

"Well. At any rate, our plan worked. Perhaps a little too well, and I'm not happy with the timing. Why didn't you step in to take control of the situation?"

"Because."

Envy swung his feet up on the ledge. Dusting himself off, he stood and grinned up at Lust, eyes lit with malice.

"I wasn't ordered to."

Lust's eyes narrowed, as she looked down at the grinning Sin. Her lips twitched into a sneer. "You could have shown a little initiative."

"Like Hell. Liore was your project, I was just the caretaker. I told you my objections, but those damn orders… I even found something interesting in this boring, depressing shithole, and I had to let it go because I was supposed to stay here…" Envy moved over to stand on the edge of the walkway, sulking towards the west.

Gluttony giggled.

"Well. If you dislike the master's orders that much, I've got some good news for you." Lust purred.

She'd thought long and hard about her approach to this, with Envy. There was plenty of time to think while she and Gluttony were taking the three-day trip to Liore from Central. And time and again, Lust had come to the same unpleasant conclusion.

She was going to have to tell the truth.

Envy was malicious, plain and simple. He never let a grudge lie, and his hatred seemed to be the only emotion he could revel in. Most of the Sins could feel shadows of negative emotions, such as loss, despair, jealousy… But Envy was old, cunning, and twisted. Perhaps he felt them but hid them from his kindred homunculi. If that was so, then he could not, or would not hide his hate.

_The trick with Envy_, Lust had learned long ago, _is to never become the target of his hate._

"Dante's dead." She said. And she watched his reaction.

He shrugged. "Big deal. This explains the whole "No disturbance for a week thing". Who's the new host?"

Lust said nothing. Her sneer had vanished as soon as she said those two words.

Comprehension dawned behind Envy's eyes. "There is no new host, is there?" He watched her, over his shoulder.

"No. Not that I can tell."

He was calm. His voice was measured, and even. This worried her, she'd never seen him this way before.

"How'd you pull it off?"

"I didn't."

"Of course you didn't." He turned to face her, and smiled. "Come on, you can think of something better."

She sighed. "I'm telling the truth. You can believe what you like, it makes no difference to me."

"Well. Either way, it opens up some interesting questions. Now, doesn't it?"

He was smiling. This was bad.

"Yes. Which is why I came to you, first."

Envy raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Wanted to let the prodigal son know mommy is dead? What a waste."

"No. Nothing so pointless."

"Then what do you want, Lust? What's your goal, here?"

"The same thing I've always wanted. The same thing we all wanted, that we were promised by Dante. The thing that we can only achieve, if we stay united."

"Humanity." She clenched her hands, and walked to the edge, to stand next to him. Gluttony hurried to follow, plopping down and dangling his feet over the void.

She'd looked away from Envy, given him a clear shot at her back. The message wasn't lost on him.

"Hmph." The green-haired youth turned, to stand with them. She hid her relief. This was one of the points where it could have turned into a fight, probably the most crucial point.

"Who else have you told?" He asked, looking down on the city.

"You're the first. Gluttony was with me when I found her, but… He'll keep quiet."

"Hidden. Quiet." Whispered the fat little Sin.

"Good move. I can already tell Pride's going to be a problem. Sloth, though…"

Lust nodded. Envy liked Sloth, for reasons she wasn't too sure about. "I've got a plan to extract her from under Pride's nose. She'll see things our way, if we can talk to her alone."

"Smart. There's another problem, though. The red stones…"

"I've got a few plans in motion, and a fallback in case the first one doesn't work out."

"Oh?"

Lust nodded. "Don't worry. We won't have to depend on Pride for their continued flow."

"Quiet…" Whispered Gluttony, roaming around the walkway, sniffing. They ignored him.

"You know," Mused Envy, "you're taking a risk telling me this. If I went to Pride with the news that you killed Dante, what do you think he'd do?" There was nothing friendly in his smile.

"Which is precisely why I didn't tell you, until my plans were well in motion. It's too late for you to interfere, even if you do something that ill-considered." _Not entirely true, but he doesn't need to know that…Time to close this deal._

Envy nodded, his eyes half-lidded.

Gluttony laughed. "Quiet!" he yelled, and bounded back toward the cathedral.

Lust smiled. Like all of the Sins, it never reached her eyes, or the rest of her face. "We can't do this without you. Are you in?"

Envy smiled back. "For now."

There was a CRASH from behind a pillar, and Gluttony came back, dragging the wheezing, pale-faced figure of Cornello by one arm. The fake priest yelled, as Gluttony hauled him before the other two sins.

"Quiet. Not quiet enough." Gluttony grinned, and clicked his teeth together.

Lust looked down at Cornello, nonplussed. "What do YOU want?"

Envy looked down at him, bored. "You were eavesdropping, weren't you?"

"NO! No… Yes. Look, I don't know what's going on, but you've got to get me out of here! Please! Or give me another stone… it's, it's not too late, I can fool them again! Not too late… Please, I can help you! Let me help you with whatever it is you need, I'll not betray you…"

Lust looked down at his arm, at the mass of tumors, wire, and warped machinery that it had become. _The backlash did him no favors._

"Oh, stop babbling." She said. "You're simply not useful anymore."

Cornello sobbed, and clutched at the hem of her dress. "Please, please… After all we've shared, all we mean to each other…"

Gluttony stuck his finger in his mouth, and drooled. "Can I eat him?"

Lust looked at Envy. Envy looked at Lust. Both shrugged.

There was a wet CHOMP, and a faint scream. Then crunching. Much crunching, for Cornello was not a small man.

Lust and Envy turned back to their conversation. "Well then. What now?"

"Back to Central for now. If everything goes as it should, we'll have Sloth in hand before the week's out."

"All right. Oh, one more thing… If we're going to work together, then no orders. We share leadership."

"Naturally." _As long as I can manipulate you this easily, you can thinkyourself my equal all you like._

"And there ARE things I want. If you see them, they're MINE. Get them for me if you find them."

"Easy enough. What did you have in mind?"

"Well, the first one looks something like this…" There was a snap of energy, and a little green winged man was standing on the ground.

Lust blinked. She looked at Envy, who reverted back to his original form."

"I'm… going to need more information on this… What is it, some kind of chimera?"

"Possibly. Remember that other alchemist that I mentioned? Well, here's what happened…"

The sun set over Liore, and the night was full of Sins…


	20. Resembool

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Thanks for the advice on webpages… I've already got an LJ account, but I don't write there, it's all personal stuff. So, I'll keep looking.**

**This one's a bit slow. Don't worry, things will pick up soon enough.**

**THE ROAD WEST**

The desert gave way to barrens, filling up with patches of grass the further the Black Swordsman traveled. His backpack of food saw them through, and Puck's scouting kept the waterskins filled.

They were good waterskins, made of metal with cloth wrapping them. They kept the water cold, which was a luxury he'd never had before. Guts still didn't know why the merchant had called them "Can't Heens", though. Whatever a Heen was, he didn't miss it.

Soon enough there was no more sand, only parched dirt and scrubby grass. Then a few more trees, and the occasional small house. Fields too, with meager crops. This wasn't great land, but people tried nonetheless.

More impressively, it was a land at peace. He had spent his entire life as a mercenary, and he knew the signs of war when he'd seen it. This place had none of them. It had been untouched for a long time, and it had a sleepy feeling to it.

There were no ghosts to trouble him at night. The land was quiet, and without sorrow.

_I don't know. I don't know about this._

Guts mused to himself as Puck buzzed from one field to the next, testing and tasting the crops there under the unseeing eyes of their farmers.

_I've had the brand for years. And damn few nights since then have been peaceful. But here…_

There WERE spirits in this world. They were feeble, but they were here… Their presence at the ruins was proof enough.

The second day in the scrubland, a farmer let him ride on the back of his turnip-filled wagon for a ways. The old man talked his ear off, and Guts obliged by nodding in the right spots.

_This is peaceful. But I know it won't last._

…_It won't last, will it?_

He shook his head, and the farmer stopped talking. Hastily, he waved his hand and said "Horsefly on my nose."

"Ha, right! I didn't think you was fool enough to think that…" Muttered the old man, as he continued. Guts tuned him out again.

_What if it does last?_

_What if I'm stuck here?_

_Can I live here?_

He looked out among the fields, at a fairly large farm, and children playing in the fields. At the grandfather dozing in the rocking chair, and the men and women hard at work, laughing at each other's jokes as they brought in the harvest.

He tried to picture himself in the rocking chair. It didn't work.

But then, another figure intruded into the picture, and he nodded.

_If she's with me, maybe I can. But still…_

While the wagon stopped and the old man headed into the fields to take a leak, Guts drew his sword, and studied it for a long moment.

_This is all I know. This is all I'm good at._

_And even if I do give this up… HE's still out there_. A white-haired, smiling young man danced through his mind, and he clenched his teeth against the pain. _Griffith…_

The pain gave way to rage, and the horses stamped nervously as the wind stilled. Guts felt his heart pound within his chest, and he forced his face back to calm as the farmer finished up, and made his way back to the wagon.

_I can not forgive him!_

He replaced the sword, and he watched the farm recede, the happy families working it vanishing in the distance.

_No. I can't stop. Not even for this._

_But…_

The old man had fallen asleep minutes ago, but the wagon was still going down the road. The horses pulling it knew the way, and they knew to stop when they got there.

_What if there's no way back?_

He wondered. The Skull Knight had used Behelits to send him through. And there were no Behelits here.

_Wait. That's not true._

He reached into his pouch, and dug out the stone. It was cool to the touch and lumpy, with misshapen features of a humanlike face. Puck yelped and ducked behind his neck. "What are you doing?"

Guts didn't answer. He watched the stone for movement, sometimes Behelits would wink their eyes, or breath slightly… Nothing.

_Could this send me back? I don't know how to use it. I don't know if I should try_. He remembered hell, and shuddered.

He tucked it away, and Puck returned to his usual perch.

_It doesn't matter. I have to find her, first. After that…_

_After that, we'll see._

That settled, he watched as the wagon pulled up to a sleepy little town. Good.

"Hey, old man?"

The old man yawned his way awake. "What's on yer mind, sonny?"

"You know anyone who can read?"

The old man gave him a weird look. "Damn near everyone in the town."

Guts raised an eyebrow. _Huh. So this is a town full of nobles and monks?_

"Why d'ya ask? Got a sweetheart you want to write to?"

"Huh? No. Ran into somebody who gave me directions a while back, and I can't make anything of it."

"Well, hand it over. I'll see what I can make of it." _This old guy doesn't look much like a priest, and not anything like a noble. Not at all…_He handed the note over, and watched him carefully.

The old man squinted at it. "Oh, Resembool! That's what yer lookin' for, Resembool. Well, that's not too hard. You jes' hop the train, go down three stops, an' then it's easy. Just ask around for the Rockbell res'dence, someone'll point you in the raht direction."

The old man handed the note back. "Hop the train?"

"A-yep. Station's raht over there." He gestured at a building, with two long metal poles next to it. The poles had wooden planks in the middle of them, and went as far as Guts' eye could see, from one horizon to the other. The building had crates and benches next to it, and people waiting and watching the distant horizon.

_Oh, a wagon train. Easy enough. What are those poles are doing there, though?_

"Thanks." He gathered his crutch, and stumped away from the wagon.

"Not a problem, son. Be safe!" And the old man parked his wagon, and headed into one of the buildings.

Guts sat among the waiting travelers, on an empty bench. The afternoon faded as the sun set, and Puck buzzed over to watch the other people, and check out the town. Guts was just getting ready to doze off when Puck came screaming through the town, to slam into his chest!

"WAKE UP! THERE'S A DRAGON COMING!"

"What?" Guts barked, and half the people on the platform looked at him funny. He didn't care at the minute, and was already standing up. "Where?"

Puck pointed, at a thin column of smoke approaching from the distance.

Guts hobbled over to the outskirts of town, and watched it approach… Damn! So close to getting that leg… Can I fight something like a dragon like I am now? Guess I'll find out.

He could see it now, a long serpent with a single eye glaring in the twilight. It was curving as it went, and Guts' eye grew wide. _That thing's at least a hundred feet long…_

For a second, he hesitated.

_It's coming straight for the town._

That decided it. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword, and readied himself. _I'll have time for one good hit. That will have to finish it…_

"Hey, the train's early!" A cheerful voice sounded from the platform, and Guts looked back to see a few people at the building smiling, and gathering their bags.

Guts whipped his head back to the dragon_. Didn't they see it?_ Didn't they…

"Excuse me, are you going to need help getting up the steps?" A smiling girl asked him, as she moved past him to the platform.

He took his hand off his sword, and a drop of sweat rolled off of his cheek. "Uh…"

**THE NEXT DAY**

He swallowed his pride as the conductor helped him down the steps, and shook his head. His rump was still hurting from the small, hard wooden seats and the continual vibration the train had made as it sped along the tracks.

He hadn't been able to sleep on that thing, and he was amazed that the other passengers could.

The young woman had been helpful in explaining concepts like "Trains", and "Tracks", and "Tickets". This was her stop too, and she was arguing with a "Conductor" over a few small crates.

Guts took the opportunity to ask the ticket-seller the way to the Rockbell Residence, and sure enough, the way sounded simple. Half an hour later, he was standing in front of a two-story house, with a dog barking at him from the yard.

The dog had a metal leg. Puck laughed. "You're in luck, Guts! They'll give new legs to any old stray…"

The dog whined, and cowered when Puck spoke. The little elf chased him around the yard, as it fled in fear, yelping.

Guts was about to step in and end the game, when the door to the house flew open.

"What's wrong boy, you catch a porcupine again?"

It was the smallest little old lady that he'd seen in his life.

"Oh!" She fiddled with her spectacles, and studied him. "Hm…"

Puck gave off chasing the dog, who promptly hid underneath the porch.

"Hi." He stumped forward, and she looked up, and up as he approached. And at the note in his hand.

She took it, and read it over, then looked back at him, her face solemn. "You'd better come in."

"All right…" He carefully drew his sword after she'd gone inside, and jammed it into the ground. That done, he followed her inside. _Don't think I'll need it here, and it's hard as hell sitting on the thing._

The inside of the house had a lived-in feel. It was… Comfortable.

The old lady served him tea, and pulled out a pair of calipers. "All right, roll up your trouser leg."

"We haven't even talked about payment."

"Don't worry about payment."

"…." _Just what DID that kid write to her?_

He obliged, revealing the clean stump of his leg. It had scabbed over neatly a week ago, but still gave off flashes of pain depending on how he shifted his weight.

He stopped, as he heard a teacup crash to the floor, and looked over. The old woman had dropped her tea, and was staring at his leg, with her lips set tight in anger.

"So." She said, her voice cold. "What did you give up in exchange for that missing leg? W hat did you promise them?"

"What?"

"I know those scars well. They're what happens when an alchemist goes into forbidden territory. You tried to bring someone back, from the other side."

_Other side? Did she know about… _"What do you know about the other side?"

"That no one, no matter what, should come back from death. And that while I can forgive a child for missing his mother and being naïve, I can't forgive a grown man for that sin. Get out of my house."

There was a gasp from behind him, and he turned his head. It was the girl from the train station, wearing a bandana on her head, and carrying a pair of crates. She was standing in the doorway, her eyes wide.

Staring at Guts' scars, on the revealed leg.

"Winry, get upstairs." Said the old woman.

"What's going on here, grandma?"

"None of your concern."

"WHAT? Look, I live here too! The least you could do is tell me why you're about to take a wrench to this guy!"

Guts chuckled grimly, and rolled his leg up. "Sorry to waste your time." _And mine._ "I don't know what I was expecting."

"Get out. Winry, stand clear." The old woman had her arms folded, and glared at him, as he limped to the door.

Winry stood clear, and watched him go. As he hit the bottom of the steps, he looked around.

"It's not death. The other side, I mean."

"Out." And the door slammed behind him.

Puck floated free, as he made his way down the road. "Well, that didn't go so good."

Guts shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

"Yes it does! Without a leg, how can… I mean… Even you…"

"I'll get by. And we'll find her. That's what matters."

"I guess so…" Puck fluttered down to his shoulder, after Guts retrieved and tucked away his sword. "I just wish I knew what was going on. It seems like people hate you for stuff I don't understand."

Guts shrugged. "I don't care."

But his face was solemn, as he started back down the long road.

_Maybe if I say that enough, I'll start to believe it…_

**TEN MINUTES LATER**

"Hey, wait. WAIT!" He stopped, and turned around. The girl was back, her bandanna keeping her blonde hair from fluttering, as she jogged up to him.

"Yeah?"

"What did you mean, by… The other side?"

He closed his eye, and shrugged. "I think it's where I came from."

"Came from?"

"Yeah. And to get here, I had to give something up." He gestured at his leg.

The girl studied his face for a long time. Finally, she nodded. "You're not even an alchemist, are you? You're telling the truth with this?"

"I don't know anything about alchemy. And it's the truth."

"All right. Then come on back."

Guts shook his head. "I just got kicked out."

"I had a talk with grandma. I think she misjudged you. She doesn't like it, but she said that she won't stop me, if I want to help you."

Guts looked down at her, as Puck cheered and did a victory dance on his head.

"Why?"

"Miss a chance to experiment with new automail? Like Hell!" And suddenly, her friendly face was transformed as she rubbed her hands together and studied his leg with a grin, already planning the first steps. "Of course, you're a bit larger than most I've tried before so we'll have to put in extra lumbar pistons, and the gearage will be at least a number four, not to mention the drive train for ankle movement will need reinforcing…"

"Ah…"

"Come on! What are you standing out here for? Time's wasting!"

Guts let himself be dragged along, with Puck laughing and giggling, unseen on the back of his cloak.

_What have I gotten myself into?_ He thought, as the door to the Rockbell House shut behind him…


	21. The Legacy of Godo

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. There's a musical called Sweeney Todd. The protagonist has a line in it, when he gets ahold of a one of his old straight razors... "AT LAST, MY ARM IS COMPLETE AGAIN! HAHAHAHAHA!"**

**Okay, so Sweeney's a serial killer who lodges with a cannibal, but there was a bit of the same sentiment here by the time this chapter was done.**

**And now, with 90 less cannibalism! And, on with the show...**

**RESEMBOOL**

"Alright, try this now."

It was a casing of metal, with wires and gears exposed on both sides. A cup on the end fit neatly over his stump as he tugged it on, and she wound a pair of straps carefully along either side of his thigh, to hold it tight. The bottom part of it was a steel boot.

He frowned. "I'm gonna need something stronger than straps."

He got a wrench to his belly for his trouble, wincing as she tapped him a good one. "Don't tell me how to do my job. This is just the calibrator. I need to know how much you weigh, how you walk. Basically, what kind of stress you're putting on your legs with your regular routine. It's not connected to your nerves, so you won't have much control over that. It's just to show me how to design the actual leg itself."

"So it's a pegleg?"

Winry snorted up at him. "Well yes, but that's the equivalent of calling a modern pistol a blackpowder cannon. This is WAY more advanced than a pegleg."

Guts nodded, though he had no idea what a "modern pistol" might be. Winry finished tightening the last strap.

"Okay, try walking around on it now."

He obliged by stumping around the room. Little needles jumped on the dials of the fake leg, with every step. It was awkward at first, but after five minutes he was getting the hang of it.

"Good enough, stop."

Winry knelt down and examined the dials. "Okay, we've got your weight calculated in. That's the vital part, everything else from here is just extrapolation."

"Is weight that important?"

"Weight's everything! If your leg isn't properly load-bearing, you could wear it out in no time, or have it crack on you in midstep, or worse."

"Hold on, then."

Guts stumped outside, and returned with his sword on his back, his metal leg screaming with every step.

Winry panicked. "GAH! Stop, don't move!" Guts obliged by freezing in midstep.

Winry checked the dials again, and glared up at him with an accusing look in her eyes. "That thing weighs two-hundred and thirty-eight pounds! How the heck are you even carrying it without breaking your back?"

Guts shrugged.

"I just do. I'm used to it."

She shook her head. "All right. Well, sit down and let me reset the calibrator. Otherwise it'll be way too sensitive."

She tinkered with it for a few minutes, as Guts watched, patient and calm. Pinako stomped into the room at one point, glared at them both and left a tray of tea and cakes before she stomped out. Puck flew over and helped himself, while the metal-limbed dog whimpered and hid under the table.

It had gotten used to Guts, but Puck was another matter.

Finally, Winry stood up, her hands covered in oil.

"Okay, there we go."

He walked around some more, the floor creaking with every step. Finally, Winry nodded. "What is that thing, anyway? It almost looks like a sword."

"ItIS a sword."

She laughed. "Yeah, right. With THAT weight? It'd rip your arms right off the second you reached the end of the arc. And if you actually hit something solid with it, the recoil would break most of your bones."

"It's a sword, and I fight with it."

She stopped chuckling, and eyed him. He looks serious. Deadly serious. And if he is...

Winry remembered her first attempts at automail for Ed, and the kind of stress that a good fight put on them. And that was for an 80-pound 13-year old.

"Okay." She said. "Let's head outside. Show me how you fight."

Pinako was in the kitchen, preparing a pot roast. Though she didn't like to admit it, having three for dinner gave her a welcome chance to stretch her recipes. Might as well make the best of a bad situation. She bent over the crock pot, poking at the vegetables and meat inside.

There was a CRACK.

Winry screamed.

Pinako leaped to the window, and looked out.

Pinako ducked.

A chunk of shrapnel from the calibrator leg crashed through the window.

The remnants shattered the crock-pot, before becoming embedded in the wall.

Pinako looked back out the window.

The big man was on the ground, his... sword? Was in his hand, and the old tree in the yard had been cut in half. The upper half of the tree was a good twenty feet away, and Winry was standing there in shock, her mouth open as she stared at the remnants of the leg calibrator on Guts' knee.

The remaining dials were well past the red zones.

Pinako "Hmph'd" to herself, cleaned up the crockpot remnants, and decided to go with roast lamb instead.

**ONE HOUR LATER**

It was a quiet dinner. Guts ate quickly, like any professional soldier. Winry spent most of it shoving around her lamb on her plate, and drawing in her notebook, while muttering to herself. Occasionally she'd tear off a page, ball it up, and throw it into the fire. Pinako found herself in an oddly cheerful mood, and hummed as she took her time with her plate.

Finally, Winry looked up in despair. "Grandma, I need your help."

"Out of the question."

"I... there's more force here than I know how to deal with. There's a ton of stress, and he absorbs it with his entire frame. He's obscenely skilled with that... that... thing! Sword. Whatever."

Guts followed the exchange, chewing on his leg of lamb.

Pinako raised an eyebrow. "And? I told you, do as you please. Leave me out of it."

"..." Winry sighed, and rubbed her eyes. "Fine. I'll sleep on it, we'll try again tomorrow."

Guts nodded, rose with the help of his crutch, and headed to the door.

"Where do you think you're going, young man?" Snapped Pinako.

Guts paused.

"Finding a good sleeping spot. Some soft fields out there."

"Out of the question."

Guts looked back. "Thought you kicked me out earlier?"

"That was before I got a yardful of fallen tree. You'll stay here tonight, and in return you'll chop firewood. You can handle that sword of yours, you can handle a chopping axe one-handed."

Puck leaned over the table. "Huh! She's got a heart after all..."

"Guess so." Guts nodded.

Pinako nodded. "Good. It's a deal then. Your bedroom's downstairs."

He nodded. "I'll catch some air first. Be back in a bit."

"Do as you please." And Pinako started clearing the table.

He stumped outside, and parked his back against the newly created treestump. Next to it, his sword stood in the dirt. Guess I'd better bring that inside. If it rains, it'll rust. Too, he was missing the feeling of it from his hands. It was odd, going for even an hour without it at his side.

I'm not used to peace.

"Am... I disturbing you?"

It was Winry's voice. He glanced over his shoulder, and shook his head. "No."

She sat down next to him, and looked at the stars. He waited, while she gathered her courage.

"You said... The other side wasn't death. What do you mean?"

Guts took his time answering.

"I'm not sure."

Winry waited another minute. Finally, she broke the silence again. "You know how Al lost his body? And how Ed lost his limbs?"

"Not exactly. Maybe the same way I lost my leg. But... I came from the other side. And I'm alive."

Winry shook her head. "I don't know either. I have some ideas, but they won't tell me. And Ed just gets depressed when I ask. I stopped asking a long time ago. What is the other side? Other side of what, exactly?"

Guts hesitated. Persistent. Stubborn. Still, he didn't think it'd do any harm to tell her.

"It's... The man who sent me through, he said it was a gate between worlds."

"Worlds?" Winry got an incredulous look on her face.

"It might be, I don't know. Things are different here, though. The land, the people. The machines..."

"How so?"

"I never saw a train before I came here. People use small weapons that fire tiny cannonballs. There's no plague, or if there is it's nowhere near here. People have good teeth, and everyone bathes all the time. Lots of people read. Even FARMERS read." The words tumbled out of him, and he felt a tight knot in his chest. "There's land that hasn't seen fighting for decades. Decades." He was whispering.

Winry let him go on.

"There's no demons."

"Demons?"

"Or angels... they call themselves apostles. But they're not here and that's all that matters. Is that it? Is that why this place is better?"

Puck flapped his wings, impressed. This was the most he'd ever heard Guts say in a long time.

Guts shook his head.

"Anyway, there's a gate between my world and this one. And eyes and hands inside it. I had to give them part of myself to come through."

"Why did you come through?"

"Because she'd die if I didn't."

"She... The one you were asking about on the train?" He'd asked the question in every place there were people, that he'd traveled. It was automatic now.

"Yeah. Her name's Caska. And she's here somewhere. I'll find her."

Winry nodded. "I don't know... I don't know anything about other worlds. But I believe you."

"Thanks."

"Well. Get to bed soon, we've got a busy day tomorrow. I have some ideas, and we'll need to test them all..."

She went inside. He waited a few minutes longer, and Puck fluttered down to his shoulder.

"You've been pretty quiet, Elf."

Puck grinned. "It's just kind of interesting."

"What?"

"Watching you relax. You're actually a nice guy when you're not fighting for your life against impossible odds every few minutes. Boy, and here I was thinking you were an arrogant jerk all the time..."

Guts flicked him into the bushes.

**THE NEXT DAY**

"Argh!" Winry scowled, and put down the wrench. Though Pinako forbade further tree chopping, (And they were out of trees, anyway,) every time she had him swing that sword it put far too much stress on the leg's main piston. They'd gone through three major pistons so far, and at this rate all she'd have left were smaller tensors.

Guts shook his head. "Sorry."

"Do you REALLY need that thing? If you're going to fight, can't you use that metal arm of yours to punch people?"

"No."

"Fine, fine. Okay, let's take a break."

Winry collected her tools, as Pinako carried out a tray of lemonade and sandwiches. Guts thanked her, ate and drank his fill, then accepted the wood axe. He limped over to the ruined tree, and got to chopping, holding himself steady with his left arm.

Pinako carried the tray over to Winry, who pushed back her bandanna and took a ham sandwich. She chewed furiously, as she studied her latest blueprints.

"Still haven't cracked it?" Asked Pinako.

"What do you care?" The girl muttered, taking ferocious bites from her sandwich.

"I don't. I just thought I raised you smarter than that."

"Tch! It's impossible! With the torque hitting the leg at that angle, even a piston the size of the entire leg would give... And we need room for the gear train, and the cables... No, I'm just not seeing any way to do it. Not that would give him any kind of mobility."

"How does he swing his sword?" Asked Pinako.

"Well, he's skilled. He's VERY skilled with it. It's like he's been practicing with it his whole life, or something. And he's muscled like an ox... That's not all though, he distributes the weight through his whole body initially, then he kind of lets the sword swing itself. He just controls it with incredible arm strength..."

Winry trailed off.

She looked at Guts. She looked at him chopping wood, and holding the tree steady.

With his left arm.

His FALSE arm.

She slapped her forehead. "I'm an idiot! Sure, he's putting weight on his legs, but he's putting MORE on his arms! Thanks, grandma!"

Pinako smiled, and started toward the door. "Oh, don't thank me. I didn't help with this, after all." Winry frowned... For a second, she had heard a strange high-pitched laugh coming from Pinako's shoulder before the old woman went inside... Then she shrugged. Inspiration had struck, and she wasn't about to waste it!

Guts looked up, to see Winry practically charging him, wrench in hand and a gleam in her eye. He hastily stowed the axe, and started backing up.

"Ah..."

"Give me your arm!"

"...What?"

**ONE HOUR LATER**

Winry put down the metal sheath, her eyes aglow. Guts watched her, as she finished screwing the parts of the appendage back together.

"Find what you were looking for?" Asked Guts.

"I... I... This isn't automail. This is a work of art!"

"It's served me well." Said Guts. "I'm glad you cleaned it. I couldn't get that desert grit out of it."

"No, you don't understand! This was made with primitive tools. There are hammer marks on the casing. HAMMER-MARKS!"

"Well, yeah. Godo made it at his forge."

"There are no nerve-cables! There are weights and counter-weights, but you've got full mobility with rotation, and near-perfect control with your fingers! And all this is just from the way your upper arm moves, the arm's gears and pulleys move it in response... It's like it's a living thing!"

Guts nodded. "Yeah. Took some getting used to, but I learned it."

"And it's made of iron. IRON! Not fine steel, not stainless or worked, but just IRON!"

Winry sighed, and clutched her wrench to her chest, humming in happiness as she rocked back and forth. "And not only that, but it supplied the answer. Distributed load!"

"What?" Guts blinked.

"It doesn't use a central piston! It's got multiple piston-like levers! Any time you strain it, the pistons share the load among themselves! Instead of one big cylinder, you've got about twenty small ones, and so no one of them gets too much strain. This is ingenious..."

Guts flexed his hand, after he reattached it. Oblivious, Winry continued.

"Though I don't understand why you put a five-pound cannon in there. You're carrying around a bomb in your arm! Don't you know what that would DO to the arm if it blew up prematurely? Don't you know what kind of DAMAGE you could do to that wonderful piece of work?"

"Uh..." Guts felt a drop of sweat roll down his forehead, as she glared at him. "Much less his body, y'know?" Said Puck, grinning...

"Does this mean you can make a leg?" Guts asked.

Winry sighed. "Maybe. I don't know. I can't match the craftsmanship in that arm. And I can't make something to match it..."

Guts nodded. "I understand. You tried your best-"

"...So I'll make something better."

"What? I thought you just said..."

Winry grinned an evil grin. "I can't match the craftsmanship, true, but I can use better materials. And with proper nerve connections, you'll have full mobility of your toes... You won't need to move your leg to move them, like you have to move your arm to move your fingers, currently."

Guts leaned back.

He smiled.

"So, what do I have to do?"

**FIVE DAYS LATER**

The pain was intense. He'd turned down the offer of a leather strap to bite on, and was starting to regret it now. Pinako carried in bowls of hot water, as Winry slid the bundles of copper wire beneath his skin, and clamped the socket in place.

He didn't let the pain show on his face. He'd had worse.

Finally, it was done.

And he flexed his right leg's toes, for the first time in days. He smiled. Winry smiled back.

"Now, you'll have to take it easy for a few weeks-hey!"

Guts slid down off the table. He nearly buckled as he hit the floor, but caught himself, and pulled himself up...

"What are you doing! Don't move... get off... sit down, dammit!"

Guts took a few experimental steps. Then he took a few more.

Then he moved over to where his sword lay across a sturdy bench, and picked it up.

Winry was yelling, and hitting him on the back to no effect.

"YOU IDIOT! Do you want permanent nerve damage? Are you really stupid enough to risk losing your WHOLE leg?"

Guts moved outside, walking with more confidence as he gripped the sword. He moved toward the stump of the tree.

Pinako smiled, and put her hand on Winry's shoulder as the girl glared daggers at Guts' back.

"That stubborn, idiotic, insensible MAN! Oooh..."

Pinako chuckled. "Might as well let him go. Trust me, I've had experience dealing with stubborn young folks."

Guts pulled his sword back.

And he swung.

The top of the tree trunk flipped into the air.

It fell a good fifty feet away.

And his new lower-leg held firm, the multiple pistons ratcheting into place and back, as they absorbed the shock.

He said not a word, sliding the sword back into its sheath.

He looked at Winry.

Winry glared back.

"Thanks." He said.

He dug out his pouch, and walked up to the Rockbells, as he dumped gold coin after gold coin into his hand.

Winry's eyes bugged out.

Pinako put her hand over his, and shook her head. "Nope."

"Take it."

"Nope."

"It's good work."

"You already paid for it."

"Impossible."

Pinako pointed, with her long-stemmed pipe.

Guts followed the pipe, and ended up staring at the neat pile of firewood by the shed.

He closed his eye. "That's nowhere near enough to..."

"I think I know the price of my own firewood. And that was a damn good tree." Pinako smiled.

Guts shook his head. "I guess you got me beat."

The old woman "Hmph'd", and Winry sighed as the gold vanished back into his pouch.

"Thanks." He repeated, and shook Winry's hand. She smiled back. "If you see Ed and Al again..."

"I'll tell them you said hi."

"Forget that! Just tell Ed not to abuse my work. And for that matter, you better treat that leg right, too!"

He nodded. "Fair enough."

And with that, he turned and started the long walk back to the "Train". Winry had told him of a big city called "Eastern" a few days down, and that seemed like a good place to look.

Pinako watched him go, puffing on her pipe. Winry watched him go, with tears in her eyes.

Pinako glanced up at her, and quirked her lips.

"It's just so... so romantic! He's going to keep on going until he finds her, and nothing will stop him. Nothing! That's how much he loves her..." Winry bubbled, tears rolling down her face.

Pinako grunted.

"Come on, romance or no, you've got a dirty machine shop to clean up. Time's wasting."

Winry nodded, and headed inside.

Pinako stayed behind, and watched as the black-cloaked man walked down the road, whole once more. She sighed.

"If I were a few years younger... Ah well."

"Good luck, Guts."

Pinako blinked.

For just a moment, she'd thought she saw something small and green grinning at her from the roof... She took off her spectacles, and cleaned them, and it was gone by the time she'd replaced them.

"Getting too old for this."

And the little woman shut the door behind her.


	22. Assault on Lab 5!

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. My gosh! Sorry anonymous poster, looks like I screwed up. I actually haven't read volume 14, (I've been having trouble finding it online). My collection stops somewhere around 12-13, and picks up around 15 or so. Bittorrent has not been kind…**

**I apologize muchly for breaking canon, but I'm not going to go back and re-edit the chapter. However, I'm not going to make a huge deal out of his arm down the road… The explanation was mainly put in to give Winry a chance to geek out over it, and technobabble a little.**

**And with all that aside, let's turn the camera away from Guts for a bit, looking at the machinations of our favorite Sins…**

**CENTRAL**

The armored car belched smoke, and rolled down the street. Marching soldiers flanked it to either side, rifles at the ready, and behind it a procession of smaller vehicles picked their way down the road.

The people pointed and watched it go, some hoisting their children up for a better look. Among them was a black-haired man in a dress coat and glasses, who had elected to spend his lunch hour taking his daughter to get ice cream. He saluted, shifting his strawberry cone to his other hand, as beside him a three year-old squealed.

"Daddy, daddy! Is it a parade?"

"No Elicia, it's a military convoy." Lt. Colonel Hughes said, dropping the salute and rubbing her head fondly.

"No candy?"

"No, no candy."

"Aw…"

"Well, maybe if you finish your ice cream, we'll see about picking up some candy before we go back to mommy…"

"YAY!" Elicia tore into her mint-chocolate-chip in a storm of flying green mush.

The convoy wound its way to the train station, where the armored car parked near to a special, enameled and gold-inlaid train car. Reporters pressed and jostled as the soldiers held them back, and flashbulbs fired as a one-eyed man in dress blues strode out of the car, and onto the train. He waved for a moment at the press and spared them a mustached grin, and they cheered their Fuehrer as he disappeared into the depths of the luxury train car. He was followed by a woman and a child, and the reporters happily took pictures of the Fuehrer and his family. Down the train from the armored car, other officers and soldiers started finding their own accomadations on the vast, forty-car train.

…And no one was on the other side of the train to see Fuehrer Bradley emerge from a door opposite the one he'd come in. He fell into step alongside a waiting set of guards. They marched along through the twists of the trainyard, as the Fuehrer tucked on a hat and pulled the brim down over his distinctive features, as he led them into the sidestreets beyond the trainyard.

The guard in front was tall, muscled beyond belief, and bald save for a lock of golden hair, and a matching mustache. His name was Major Armstrong, and he was a state alchemist.

And he did not like this at all.

"Sir, I must protest. This is one of the areas that the alchemist killer has hit before, he could be watching us at this very moment. And with so small a guard…"

"Relax, Major." Fuehrer Bradley laughed, smiling as always. "Right now, all eyes are upon the group going to Eastern. Why, the Fuehrer's going there too, as we just saw! No, the killer won't pass up a chance like this, which is why our little misdirection will work. And in the meantime, this gives me freedom to act on another matter."

"Another matter, sir?"

"Yes, actually. A matter of sin and redemption… Wait."

The group halted, outside a run-down warehouse. "Did you see that, Major?"

"See what, sir?"

"Movement inside the doorway. Someone ducked away from us as we passed. The rest of you guard out here and secure the exits. Major, you're with me!"

Fuehrer Bradley drew his saber, and dashed toward the door. With an expression of alarm on his face, Major Armstrong raced ahead of him, smashing the door open with a mighty fist. "Sir, I must protest!" "Skip it, Major!"

There was no one in the antechamber of the warehouse, and dust covered all. "Come on, Major! This way!" The Fuehrer sped toward the staircase, and took the stairs two at a time. Caught off guard, Armstrong followed as best he could, the stairs creaking under his weight.

"Sir, you're exposing yourself to far too much danger! How are we supposed to guard you if-"

The Major rounded a corner, and desperately skidded to a halt. The Fuehrer was nowhere to be seen.

Major Armstrong looked around the burned out upper level of the warehouse. "Sir? Sir?" He called, pacing through the rooms, looking for his commander. He may as well have been looking for a ghost.

There was a creak behind him, and a clatter. He whipped around, to find a fallen bit of rubble skittering along the floor, and just as he started to look up…

There was a whoosh of air behind him, and a blade held to his throat, as an arm reached around and clasped him in a half-nelson hold. He felt a body pressing against his own, and a mustache tickled the side of his scalp as its owner whispered in his ear.

"You may as well stop pretending."

Major Armstrong's lips pursed, then curled into a sneer. "All right." His voice was hard, and had a mocking tone to it. "Move the blade, I'd hate to waste a regeneration."

The blade withdrew and energy flickered around the Major, as his form twisted and fell in on itself. Soon enough, Envy shook out his spiky green hair, and turned to look behind him.

The Fuehrer had his eyepatch flipped up, and was busy sheathing his sword. He looked down at Envy with an expressionless face, its normal smile nowhere to be seen.

"Hello, Pride. Fancy meeting you here."

"Hello, Envy. Where is the real Major Armstrong?"

"Oh, he got orders this morning to do a secret patrol around the outskirts of Central. Should keep him busy for the rest of the day."

"Good. I have a use for him. Now, is there anything you'd like to say to me?" The Ouroborous symbol on his eye glistened in the light, as Pride studied the slight homonculus before him.

Envy shrugged. "I don't think so. If you have a problem with my orders, you can take it up with Dante…"

"Nice try, but I know about Dante."

Envy's eyes narrowed. "Do you, now? And what is it that you know."

"I know that Lust killed her."

"She says differently."

"She would, wouldn't she?"

Envy smirked. "Even so, what does it matter to me if she did?"

"Oh, it's not what she did, but what she plans to do. What did she offer you, to recruit you?"

Envy shrugged, a smile playing across his lips. "That's between me and her."

"It was humanity, wasn't it? That same thing she's always chased after, even when it's hurt the rest of us. Even when it's gone against our progress."

Envy's smile thinned. Pride continued.

"But my eye is keen, and I've watched you carefully. You don't care so much about it, do you? It's not the same overwhelming goal with you that it is with Lust. No, your goals were different. And they still are, aren't they?"

Envy's lips peeled back from his teeth, and he growled in his androgynous voice. "Don't pretend to know me."

"All right. But, I have to continue. She sent you to keep an eye on me, didn't she? To alert her to any last-minute surprises, just before the second part of her plan kicked off."

Envy didn't say a word, but Pride's eye caught the minute shifts in his stance and body temperature. "Oh yes, I know about that, too. It won't work, I assure you that."

Envy grinned, all teeth. "So, what are you saying? Shall we throw down, right here?"

"Oh, I have a much better idea. How would you like power?"

Envy shrugged. "There's power, and there's power."

"Right now, I control the military. I decide the fate of this nation. I control the only means of producing red stones on a large-scale. I am loved in every part of this country. I have over thirty alchemists under my command. Me."

"If there are any among us who can help you achieve your goals, it is I. Not Lust. Certainly not Gluttony. Throw in your lot with the winning side, and I promise you, your gesture will NOT be forgotten."

Envy tilted his head back, and paced around the room, never taking one eye off of Pride. Pride sat his foot up on a ruined chair, crossed his arms across his knee, and watched Envy consider.

Finally, Envy stopped. "And Sloth?"

"Will do as I ask her to."

"You make a convincing case. If I were to accept, what would you ask of me? Lust's head on a platter?"

"Nothing like that. I merely require that you go back to her when the time comes. Report that all is well, and I am indeed in Eastern. Simply say nothing about my presence here. And when the time comes, simply stand aside. We'll take matters from there."

Envy's smile grew. "And let things take their course. I have to admit, it would be entertaining to see her get what she deserves."

"Then, you're with me?"

Envy grinned a wicked grin. "For now."

Pride nodded. "Good. And you shall reap the benefits of your wise choice, soon enough. Come then, let's leave, Major."

There was a SNAP of energy, and the big man once again looked down on his King. "Yes sir!"

**SIX HOURS LATER**

It had been a long day for Major Armstrong, and he was heading in to finish his report. The latest camp had been concealing no contraband, and there were no signs of rebels, Ishbalan or otherwise among the poor of the junkyard.

As soon as the big man strolled up to the guard post, the lieutenant at the desk handed him a telegram. "Orders for you, sir," she said. He raised one golden eyebrow, and took the folded sheet of paper, scanning it carefully. "I see. Who else has seen this?"

"Just the telegraph operator, and myself." Said Lt. Maria Ross. "We're aware of its nature, and have maintained secrecy, as instructed."

Lt. Armstrong nodded. "Good. Come on then, you're with me. We need to assemble three squads, and we need to do it quickly and quietly."

"Yes sir!"

**FOUR HOURS LATER: THE SLUMS AROUND LABORATORY NUMBER 5**

They came in groups of five. They approached silently, using the buildings for cover and hiding in the shadows, as they'd been trained to do. Their gold-braided dress coats had been traded in for plain blue fatigues, that didn't glisten or jingle in the night.

They came with guns, and they waited, waited for the signal to begin the assault. They were the best soldiers left in the capital, and they did not know why they had been called here. They only knew what they were expected to do.

Maes Hughes lowered his binoculars, as he heard a solid presence walk up the stairs behind him. He nodded as a bare-chested figure joined him in the empty apartment, overlooking the compound across the way. "Major Armstrong."

"Colonel Hughes." Armstrong adjusted his cestus on his fists, the spiked metal protecting and reinforcing his fingers.

"I don't suppose you know why we've been called in to secure this place?"

"I wish that I did. I find this situation… odd." Rumbled the Major.

"Odd isn't the word. Did you know, this is a rented apartment, by a young couple who've never missed a payment?"

Armstrong looked around, at the complete and utter lack of furnishings, the layer of dust on the floor, and the general emptiness of the two-room suite. "I… would not have guessed that."

"Neither would I, until I checked the records. But every room on this side of the building is empty. Every room that has a chance of overlooking that abandoned laboratory is rented. And everyone that rents a room on this side of things does not seem to exist."

Major Armstrong shook his head, looking out the window. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know." Hughes reached down to his side, and started to unpack a long, thin case. "I'm not even sure why I've been called in as support in a sniper's capacity." Hughes hefted a long-barreled rifle out of the case, checked the bolt, and chambered a round.

"My orders were to check on the pickets, and prevent anyone from leaving," said Armstrong. "I've got ten men to help with that purpose… Less than I'd like. You were probably called in because most of our best combat troops are in Eastern now, guarding the Fuehrer."

"Well, that's what I want the enemy to think," said a warm voice.

Hughes and Armstrong jumped, and turned around. A smiling, one-eyed man wearing a black tee-shirt, blue dress pants, and an elaborate harness leaned against the open door. Four saber-hilts protruded from sheaths on his back, two per side.

They saluted. "Si-sir! We didn't expect you…" Stammered Armstrong.

Fuehrer Bradley chuckled. "That was the point of the exercise. A little sleight of hand, that's all. Any activity?"

Hughes nodded. "Two minutes ago. Two unidentified personnel through the side-door, one tall and female, the other short, fat, and unidentified. Someone wearing antique armor let them inside the main building."

"Good." Their ruler smiled. "I'll be leading the main assault."

Armstrong started. "But sir! It's nowhere near safe, at least take me with you…"

"I'll have twenty good troops at my back, Major. No, I'll need you out in the main yard for backup. Your orders are to disable that armored thing, and prevent anyone from escaping. You are not to entire the main building unless there is evident and overwhelming need to do so. Do you understand?"

Major Armstrong saluted. "Yes sir!"

"Good. Alright then, let's go. Lieutenant Colonel, backup the Major as you can."

Hughes saluted, sliding the bolt back on the rifle with his other hand. "Yes sir." Still, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. _Something's funny here._

The Fuehrer strode down the hall, and out of the building, Major Armstrong beside him. As they marched, men fell in behind them, in groups of five. Soon enough, they were thirty strong, as they moved to the main gate of Laboratory #5.

Fuehrer Bradley smiled.

"Major, if you would do the honors."

"Sir!" With a mighty swing, Armstrong slammed his hands into the gate, and alchemical energy flared! The gate exploded inward in thousands of chunks of metal, raining upon the stones of the courtyard in a clashing symphony of destruction!

"GO!" Called the Fuehrer, and he surged forward, a sword filling each hand as he ran through the dust and debris! Behind him, twenty men followed, rifles at the ready. The Fuhrer seemed to know just where to go, and lead the way through the main door.

Armstrong stopped, as the screams began. He turned around to see a spray of red, as two of his squad crumpled. A hulking, metal-and-fur clad figure in a skull-shaped helm giggled, and twirled its cleavers. "Finally, some fresh meat!"

"You'll pay for that, you monster!" Shouted one of the survivors.

The rest of the squad opened fire, bullets ringing off the man's armor, and occasionally holing it as it rushed forward, bringing its knives down in a dance of death…

"STOP!"

The entire fight halted, as the armored figure and soldiers froze, staring back at Major Armstrong.

The bare-chested man flexed his arms, and muscle after muscle bunched under his skin, as he lowered himself into a fighting stance.

"I'm the one you'll be fighting!" And he pointed a meaty finger at the armored man, calling him out.

The armored man laughed, a strangely hollow sound. "No! You're the one I'll be CHOPPING! HAHAHAHAHA!"

And the first of many explosions rocked Laboratory #5, as the two titans charged toward each other…


	23. Metal Vs Muscle

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Actually, Tazzy, the timeline's at the point where the Elric brothers haven't met Major Armstrong yet. So, he's never encountered animated armor before.**

**Which is a pity, since it might have changed the way that things turn out…**

**LABORATORY #5**

Barry the Chopper was not having a good day.

The big guy was QUICK. Which wasn't fair, because he was strong, too. Barry had several dents in his armor, from where those metal glove-thingies had pounded the holy hell out of him.

It wasn't a one-sided fight though, Barry had gotten in a few swipes. None of them had been any good hits, but he'd scraped a little skin from his arms, and gotten a light gash in on his side.

Barry wasn't too worried. The big guy was only flesh and blood, after all. _MEAT! _Soon enough he'd be tired, and Barry would be ready with his knives…

---

Major Alexander Louis Armstrong was not having a good day. He'd lost two good men to this maniac's knives, before he could step in. What's more, the fellow wasn't being cooperative. His punches should have been rattling him around in his armor like a mouse in a bell, but the man didn't even seem to be slightly hurt. He'd managed to knock the giggling maniac back a few times, but he'd always sprung right to his feet again…

And his armor had bulletholes in it at various points. Bulletholes, but no blood. Major Armstrong frowned. _Something is wrong here. I'll have to end this quickly._

He pounded his cesti together. _Hate to do this, but he's a menace that I can't ignore!_

"What's wrong?" Called the armored man, in his strange, hollow voice. "Getting tired already?"

"Hardly! I merely wanted to show you a technique that's been passed down in the Armstrong family for generations…"

And he charged Barry the Chopper.

Barry shrieked in joy, and ran up to him, bringing his cleavers screaming down at Armstrong's shoulders…

"THE FAMOUS ARMSTRONG FLYING LEG DROP!"

…As Armstrong lowered his center of gravity, slammed his hands into the ground, and FLIPPED head-over-heels, slamming his feet into Barry's chest! The cleavers, aimed for the bulk of his torso, gashed the cloth of his trousers and the skin of his thighs as the two of them collided! Barry's knives went flying, and they rolled in an ungainly heap, over and over before fetching up against a wall. Major Armstrong held him pinned, his knees folded over Barry's arms, and his arms holding his legs. He was practically sitting on Barry's head.

And having trouble staying put. Barry was strong! "Now, Colonel!" He called.

Hughes knew his cue when he heard it. There was a BANG.

Barry's helm jerked under Major Armstrong's rump, a neat hole appearing in the side of it.

Barry stopped moving.

Major Armstrong sighed, and stood, walking back to his squad as he brushed blood from his legs. _Close one. Another few inches closer, and those knives would have carved through my knees…_

He nodded to the rest of the squad. "Lt. Ross, take command out here. I'm going to-"

She was staring at him, horrified. He watched as her gun came up

_What? _

The gun barked. He flinched.

And there was a CLANG behind him.

He comprehended, just as Barry's heavy metal form slammed into his back! Lt. Ross' shot had thrown his charge off-balance, just enough that Armstrong could roll with the attack, and throw him to the side.

Barry rolled, knocking down a soldier, and snatching up his nearby cleaver as he regained his feet. "Uweee hee hee! You'll not beat me that way!" He chopped down at the stunned soldier, and there was another scream and burst of blood.

Major Armstrong glared. "Everyone, get clear. He's MINE!"

"Ha!" Barry advanced slowly, swinging the cleaver in whooshing arcs. "You'll make great prime rib, meatball…"

Major Armstrong surged forward as the rest of the soldiers scattered, slammed his hands together, and sent his fist screaming down toward Barry's helmet! Barry yelped, and dodged! The attack missed, and sent a narrow crack splintering through the ground, as the Major's fist slammed into it…

"Alchemy? Oh, that's just not fair!"

Major Armstrong panted, leaped into the air, and tried another powerful punch… Only to miss, with the same results. This time, Barry flicked out his blade and cut a small nick out of his shoulder.

"Ha! You can't keep this up for long!"

Leap, pound, crack.

Leap, pound, crack.

Barry skittered around the courtyard, unable to get a good attack in. Still, he didn't mind.

_He's staggering now… Can't do this much longer, and… YES!_

He chuckled, as the Major collapsed against one of the few walls still standing, holding his gashed shoulder in one hand, and resting on his haunches.

Barry walked up, grinning in the clouds of dust that the Major's futile attack had raised.

"What was the point of that? Seriously, now I'm going to carve you into giblets. You just made sure that you'd die tired."

"On the contrary." Rumbled Major Armstrong.

"You've fallen prey to a technique handed down through the Armstrong family through generations. SPONTANEOUS SCULPTURE!"

Barry flinched. He glanced around, as the dust settled…

…And saw that each crack in the ground of the courtyard formed a part of an alchemical circle.

Barry was standing right in the middle of that circle.

He turned to run.

Major Armstrong slammed his hands into the ground.

There was a flare of light, and Barry felt his very skin crumbling away…

And then knew nothing more.

Major Armstrong blinked.

The surviving seven soldiers stared.

Lt. Maria Ross, the sternest among them, moved forward to the small heap of fur and leather that was surrounded by red dust. As she covered it with her pistol, the dust started to blow away in the wind…

"Major… What did you DO to him?"

Major Armstrong shook his head, just as surprised.

"I merely oxidized his armor. Rusted it right away from him, all the metal parts, anyway. There should be a living, nearly nude man there right now."

Lt. Ross flipped over the fur, and more red dust blew away in the wind.

"There isn't."

"I can see that."

For a few seconds, the soldiers watched. Then another explosion rocked Laboratory #5, as greasy smoke billowed into the night sky.

Major Armstrong glanced up. "Something is wrong. Lt. Ross, take command. I'm going to shore up the internal assault!"

"Yes sir!" Hiding her concern, she started posting the soldiers in a loose picket. If anything left, they'd see it.

And bandaging his injuries as best he could, Major Armstrong dashed into the depths of the Laboratory…


	24. The Sins War

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. This is a long chapter, and an important one… Took a few liberties with the physics of the red water, but I figure it WOULD have an increased effect if Sloth was exposed to it in her liquid form…**

**INSIDE LABORATORY #5: Ten minutes ago**

General Basque Grand led the way, and Lust and Gluttony followed. After descending into the depths of the laboratory, and picking their way through dark passages, they came out into a room full of tanks of red glowing fluid.

Gluttony burst into a smoking torrent of drool, and even Lust felt her veins throb. _So much red water… And properly treated, so many red stones…No matter, she should be bringing the real thing along any time now._

She smiled as a familiar fur-coated form hurried up, moving as fast as it could, walking backward.

"Doctor Tucker."

"W-welcome." He was more nervous than usual. She figured it was probably due to "Basque Grand's" presence.

She let her smile grow. "How is your patient, Shou?"

"She's well. She stopped crying after the first three nights, though she still wails whenever I'm in the same room with her. Not that I blame her, I'm quite the sight…Heh, heh." Tucker rasped.

"And the questions that I asked you about, concerning Pet?"

Shou Tucker adjusted his upside-down glasses, glancing over at General Grand.

"Oh, you can speak freely in front of him."

"Pet?" Rumbled the general.

"Yes… She was present at that… tumultuous event that I mentioned in Liore."

The general raised his eyebrows. "I see…"

Tucker coughed. "In that case… I've managed to confirm that she is, in fact, perfectly human. It's odd though, she has signs of malnutrition at an early age that you rarely see in civilized countries anymore. She's also been exposed and survived through diseases that just aren't around anymore. Her flesh shows scars from many, many blades… She's got the marks of an experienced swordswoman."

"That IS odd." Lust murmured. "Human, you said? You're sure?"

"Without a doubt. Although, that brand on her breast seems to be reactive with the red stone mixture. It causes her slight pain and bleeding, whenever she gets too close, in proportion with the amount of the liquid. Hence the reason I didn't bring her to greet you."

Lust nodded. "And her mental state?"

"Unchanged. I've tried chemical adjustment, and limited electroshock therapy, but to no avail. Her mental regression has been going on for quite some time, and it was induced by severe mental and physical trauma… To venture a guess, the trauma's probably related to whatever burned out her womb."

"What?" Lust blinked, startled. General Grand snorted, and let a sneer creep onto his face, as he watched the female homonculous frown.

"Oh, she's been badly treated. But in any case, with the limitations that you gave me, I cannot determine anything further about her. Anything of note, anyway. Now, if you were to authorize more… Efficient methods, I might be able to restore her memory, at the cost of a little physical damage… If nothing else, she might work a little better as a chimera…"

"Thank you, doctor Tucker. I'll take that under advisement. For now, go get her ready to travel, we'll be taking her with us."

Tucker left, after taking a second to stare at General Grand.

Once the altered human was gone, General Grand turned his head to Lust. "Taking her with us? Why?"

"I told you, she was there when Dante disappeared. More to the point, she appeared in the spot after the disaster."

"I see… But why bother with her if she's just a human? If she can't do alchemy, and she doesn't know anything about Dante, she's not useful… I didn't sign up to nursemaid a stinking human."

"Patience, Envy. Just because she doesn't know anything now, doesn't mean she won't remember later."

"Tch. She's your pet, do as you like. In any case, now what?"

"Now we wait. It's been a week since I left my last instructions, and we'll see the result of that shortly…

A few minutes trickled by, and Gluttony amused himself by licking the glass tubes of red water. Envy, in the shape of Basque Grand, leaned against the wall and scowled. Lust merely stood in the center of the room, watching the door…

Soon enough, the door opened. A mousy-haired woman in a conservative pink dress walked through, balancing two crates in her arms.

"Hello, Sloth."

"Lust."

Sloth put the crates down, and nodded to Basque Grand.

"Here are the stones, as you requested." Gluttony wandered over, and started sniffing the crates. "You said you would have further instructions at this point…"

Lust smiled, as she walked forward, her heels clicking on the stone floor. "Yes… And I'm afraid that part of it is bad news. Something's happened to Dante…"

There was a distant BOOM. Lust glanced up.

"Not stones." Whispered Gluttony.

Lust looked back down, to find Sloth watching her, bored as usual. _But no, something's different. Something's in her eyes…_

"What is this?" Lust snapped.

"This is the fate of traitors."

"No stones!" Gluttony howled, thick arms throwing one crate against the wall. It shattered, spilling beads across the floor. Red glass beads…

"I'm not a traitor." Lust made a fist, then started to bring it up, her hand slowly starting to unclench…

"Tell it to Dante." Pride strode through the door behind Sloth, as another explosion rocked the Laboratory. The lights flickered as he leveled his sabers, one at Lust and one at Gluttony.

Lust shook her head. "Even if that were true, it's three against two… I think you should put those away."

Pride smiled, and flipped up his eye patch. The red tattoo on his cornea glittered, as it seemed to peer into the depths of her mind… "Are you sure? I think you should look again."

Lust glanced around.

Envy was gone!

"That traitor! Only one way out now." She hissed. "Gluttony, take her!"

And her fist unfurled, as she pointed at Pride and her fingers stretched, like sharp black lightning…

---

Major Alexander Louis Armstrong's day had not improved. The interior of the Laboratory was full of smoke and rubble, and every so often he'd pass by the corpse of one of the assault team. None of them had been the Fuehrer's corpse, thankfully…

Still, he was dreading that it was only a matter of time. Most of the soldiers seemed to have fallen to fiendish traps… The explosions had been from a few grenades cooking off, after a demolitions specialist had been caught in a fire trap. From the sounds of it, a good part of the laboratory was now on fire…

He knelt down next to a coughing, lightly wounded corporal. "Are you all right? Do you know where the Fuehrer went?"

"No… clue… kAFF, kaff…. We… we lost him in the smoke… Ran ahead too fast… Fast!"

"Too fast… hcckkk… nothing human's that fast…"

Major Armstrong shook his head. _Poor man's delirious._ "Stay still. Here, take my canteen. I'll be back for you as soon as I find the Fuehrer.

"…Nothing's… that fast…"

---

Lust gritted her teeth. _He's fast! _Her fingers had shot out as fast as bullets, but Pride had simply stepped to the side, and slashed them as they went by. She felt a twinge of pain, as the tips spun free from her fingers and shattered against the wall…

Gluttony dived at Sloth, and got a faceful of water and cloth for his trouble. The liquid homonculous reformed a short distance away, and wrapped her hands around Gluttony's head. The squat little man snapped his teeth uselessly as her hands went to water, and started forcing themselves down his nose and mouth, down his throat…

Lust glared, and then there was no more time to glare as Pride was THERE next to her, and his sabers cut down…

She parried desperately, and felt her fingers shatter as a blade whipped around them and pierced her straight through the heart…

Dying always hurt. She came to, coughing blood and kneeling, and pulled the sword from her chest. She tossed it aside, and saw Pride standing back, drawing a new saber from his harness.

Off to the side, Gluttony was gurgling, scrabbling his pudgy limbs uselessly as Sloth forced more of herself down his throat. He was slowly drowning… This wasn't death for a homonculous, but the equivalent of stasis. Once he was out from drowning, he'd be unconscious for a good while… _And then it'll be two on one._

"You may as well surrender." Pride called, his face still as stone. "You can't escape my eye…"

Lust smirked, and pointed her arm to the side. "Maybe not. But tell me…"

Pride tilted his head back, puzzled. Then his eye widened, and he blurred into motion… too late!

"…Did you see THIS coming?" Lust's fingers shot out, piercing the tube of red water next to Gluttony!

Pride reached her and lopped Lust's head off her neck as Sloth screamed. He turned to survey the situation as Lust's body flopped to the ground, her fingers shrinking back to normal length.

He grimaced.

The water had mixed with Sloth's form, and was crackling with energy as it coursed along Sloth and Gluttony alike, rippling her form in and out of solidity in the maw of the squat homonculous.

The red stone amplified the powers of the homunculi, and gave them their unnatural regeneration. But, the red water was a barely stable form of the stone. Without the proper refining, it could cause problems. And in this quantity…

He ran to the struggling pair, jabbing three swords into Gluttony as fast as a human's blink. The little man staggered back, and using both hands Pride hauled Sloth out of his mouth, his hands finding purchase in the suddenly solid entrails that were spilling from her.

He threw her through the door, clear of the puddle of red water sizzling around his boots. Though he could feel the raw RUSH the fluid called from him, he wasn't liquid, and he wasn't as vulnerable to it. She'd recover, given time…

He looked over, to see Lust's severed head crumbling into ash, and her body convulsing as a new one started to congeal from her neck, seeming to inflate and grow in no time at all…

Then there was motion at his side, and Gluttony, full of red water, was upon him…

---

Major Armstrong pounded his way through another door, as another explosion rocked the Laboratory. No sign of the Fuehrer yet, and he was on the third sub-basement and counting. _If I don't find him soon, this place will be his grave…_

There was motion ahead, and the Major slowed. He'd run into a few chimerical guardians earlier, and he steadied himself for a fight…

Then as the emergency lighting flickered, he caught a glimpse of a bald, broad man in military dress scurrying down the corridor ahead.

He almost called out to him, but at the last minute his memory caught up with his mouth.

_That was General Basque Grand… But he went to Eastern! So did the Fuehrer, though, and he's here…_ The general was around the corner before Armstrong could make up his mind. His footsteps muffled by the noise of the crumbling Laboratory, Major Armstrong followed.

He trailed the general down two more corridors, into an emptier part of the Lab. There were doors here, doors with grilles. One of them was occupied as he passed, by a woman's face, her black eyes glittering with fear against brown skin.

"A-A-aaba!" She shouted, and he froze as he started to pass. "Shhh…" He held up a finger in front of his lips, and made placating gestures with his other hand. "A captive? Here?"

"Bahghhha! Umm…" She cried, trying to push through the grille.

He sighed. "I have no idea what you're doing here, but you'll have to be patient. Please! I'll be back for you, I swear!"

She cried as he left.

---

General Grand stood in front of the soldered door, its steel frame literally welded to the walls. He smirked to himself, and his frame flickered with energy as general Grand flickered, shrunk… And was replaced with Envy's familiar form.

"This might be an obstacle. Good thing I came prepared." He tossed a pair of salvaged grenades up and down in his hand, catching them by the handle each time. _Nice of those soldiers to die and leave their toys behind…_

He didn't notice the bald head peek around the corner, and disappear back just as quickly.

There was a WHUMP, and the sound of metal and stone tearing. Envy picked himself up, his riddled form knitting itself back together, and looked through the door.

Greed raised his hand, and brushed rubble and shrapnel from his jacket. "Yo."

He grinned, and his teeth were sharp…

"Don't think I'm doing this to be nice." Envy jeered, as he crossed his arms.

"You? Nah, I wouldn't believe it anyway." Greed picked his way out of the cell, and stretched. He wore a set of black, leather-like pants, and a thick jacket of similar stuff. There was a white ruff on the collar, which looked very out-of-place. He had small, round black glasses perched on his nose, and his hair was just as spiky as his teeth.

He was Greed, and for the first time in over a century, he was free…

"We need to go."

"We, squirt?"

Neither of them noticed Armstrong peering around the corner again.

"A lot's changed. You'll need me if you want to stay free."

Greed grinned. "I'll take my chances."

"Dante's dead."

Greed stopped grinning. "Huh."

Envy nodded. "Strange, huh? We should feel something…"

"But we don't. Hey, it's the homunculi thing, baby. It's part and parcel of the package, you oughta know that by now."

Another explosion rocked the laboratory. Far above them, a distant rumbling started.

"Come with me."

"Nope."

"Listen, you spiky-grinned twit…"

"Relax. YOU come with ME."

Envy frowned. "That's how it is, huh?"

"Either that, or you go your own way."

"Fine. You're a better option than Lust or Pride. For now…"

"I'm flattered. So which way's out?"

"Down the hall. But we've got one more stop first… There's a human down the other way that we need to collect. She's the key to this whole mess, evidently."

"Is she a babe?"

"What does it matter?"

"Hey, I've been in here awhile… Could use some good company, if you know what I mean."

"Disgusting. She's down the hall, you can judge for yourself."

Major Armstrong's eyes widened, and he pulled his head back around the corner.

"So, Pride you said? How's she doing?" Greed tucked his hands in his pockets, and ambled down the hall. Envy walked alongside him, scowling.

"It's a different Pride now. This one's male. A different Lust, too."

"Tell me Lust is still a babe. There's some dishes you just can't serve with sausage, y'know?"

"I have no clue what you're babbling about, and yes, the new Lust's female."

"So why me? Seriously, you're not exactly my favorite little bishounen right now. I still owe you for what happened back then…"

"Lust has Gluttony, Pride has Sloth… They can't trust me, and if I'm alone then they'll outnumber me when they catch up to me. Better to have my own backup."

"Heh. And what do I get out of this?"

"So, where's the skull, Greed?"

Greed stopped. Greed frowned. "I destroyed it, of course."

"Of course."

"Why do you ask?"

"Just letting you know, that I know. And my not letting anyone ELSE know, well… that's what you get out of this for now."

They turned the corner, as Greed smirked, and resumed his walk. "All right. We'll see how this goes… Just don't crimp my style, junior."

Envy didn't respond. Envy was shaking with rage. Envy was looking down the corridor, at an open cell doorway surrounded by a chalk outline. An alchemical circle.

"What's wrong, spiky?"

"That's her cell. That cell had a door five minutes ago. That cell had HER in it five minutes ago!"

"Well, now it doesn't. Come on, easy come, easy go."

"I NEVER get what I want! Damn it!"

"No, you don't. Breaks my heart, now come on. Which way's out again?"

---

Major Armstrong lumbered through the twisting corridors, his passenger clutching his back tightly. She was light enough, a tiny brown figure in a paper hospital gown.

He didn't know why she was down here, or what sort of "Key" she could be, but those two would get nowhere near her. She didn't deserve whatever they had planned for her, he was sure of it.

"Not on my watch." He rumbled.

She giggled.

"Ah, Major!"

Major Armstrong slid to a stop, as he peered into the room ahead… at the spilled red fluid staining the floor, and the hole in the wall that looked… chewed into the concrete?

He stared at the Fuehrer, standing in the middle of it, smiling. His t-shirt was ripped, and he had his secretary draped over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. The Fuehrer's spare hand was covering his patchless left eye…

"S-sir?"

The two tall men looked each other over for a second. The strange woman chortled.

"Why… why is Miss Douglas here? Sir?"

"She was kidnapped, Major. It's one of the reasons that we're here, to retrieve her. Now come on, we'll need alchemy to get out of here safely."

"Yes sir!"

Fuehrer Bradley led the way, up a flight of stairs and past corridors choked with rubble.

"Sir, I have reason to believe that they may have other captives! We must get them out-"

"We'll have to free ourselves first, Major. Then we'll see what we can do. That's an order."

Armstrong nodded. "Sir, yes sir." He stared at the Fuehrer's back, as they ran. His T-shirt was ripped almost to shreds, but he didn't have a single wound on his skin. _I knew he was good. Is he THAT good?_

Finally, the Fuehrer glanced up, and pointed at an unremarkable section of the ceiling. "Here we go… Make a tunnel here, Major. This ought to be sturdy enough."

Armstrong frowned. _How did he know? This spot looks like any other…_ The Fuehrer put his hand back over his eye, and looked over to Major Armstrong. "Whenever you're ready, Major."

"Er, yes sir." He slid the strange woman to the ground, and took out a piece of chalk…

**FIVE MINUTES LATER**

The laboratory shuddered, and collapsed in on itself, dust and debris pouring out the remnants of its frame as it came down.

Lt. Maria Ross shut her bruised eyes. "That's it then. Well, at least we don't have to explain-"

"Explain what, Lieutenant?"

"SIR!" She hauled herself up from her sitting position, and shot out a salute. Fuehrer Bradley chuckled, and waved his hand, his secretary's scarf bound around his head in an impromptu eyepatch. "At ease, at ease…"

Major Armstrong was the next to pull himself out of the hole. For once, the strange woman was quiet as she looked around…

The Major blinked at the unconscious and beaten soldiers, some missing weapons, others missing parts of their uniforms. "Lieutenant! What happened here?"

She shook her head. "A group of… people came pouring out of the lab a few minutes ago. They were on us before we could fight back. They knocked us around, then this guy with sunglasses called them off. I'm sorry to say that we were in no shape to follow them…"

"You did the right thing, Lieutenant." Fuehrer Bradley smiled, and Lt. Ross felt her chest fill with pride. "And now you can provide us an escort back to headquarters. Our two rescued hostages need medical treatment, and you all need some much deserved rest."

"Sir… What of the others?"

Fuehrer Bradley's face grew stern, and he looked away to the rubble. Major Armstrong shook his head, his broad face wracked with sorry. "I'm… sorry, Lieutenant. I'll stay, and look for survivors."

He glanced back, and pulled the brown-skinned woman over to Lieutenant Ross. "Please, see that she's taken care of and guarded. According to a conversation I overheard in that place, she's the key to SOMETHING… At least, according to a green-haired midget."

She looked at him.

"Don't ask." Sighed Major Armstrong. "It's a long story."

The Lieutenant nodded, and tucked her arm around the cooing woman.

And the Fuehrer's eye glittered behind the scarf as he moved with the other soldiers, considering the stranger.

_The key to the whole thing…_ Mused Pride. _Perhaps this night wasn't a total loss after all…_


	25. The Scarred Man of Ishbal

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. And now, back to our regularly scheduled Berserker.**

**EASTERN CITY**

The sun beat down upon the travelers, as they filed off the train. Some called out to their family, and embraced their waiting spouses and children. Others merely picked up their luggage and disappeared into the city. The last few settled down on the platform, to wait for the train to their next stop.

And one set his booted metal foot down on the rail, cloak billowing behind him as he moved through the crowd. He was carrying something on his back, a big piece of metal in a strange shape.

It was far too big to be called a sword.

Too heavy, too thick, and far too rough, it was more like a heap of raw iron.

His fellow departing passengers stayed clear of him, and gave him nervous looks as he passed by. He'd been muttering to himself all through the trip. That, and also his disfigurements spoke of old pain and violence… Well, it was no business of decent folk.

And if a younger child insisted that the big man in black was talking to a little green guy with wings, well, that was obviously the sign of an overactive imagination.

The thing was, he WAS talking to a little green guy with wings. And many kids went without supper that night, for unjust reasons…

The big man wasn't talking right now. His mouth was full of bread and meat, and his hand was cradling the rest of the "Sand-witch." The little green guy on his shoulder was busy gnashing through a hunk of the sand-witch, too.

"I tell you Guts-Numf, numf. Thish issa-Gulp. This is a great idea! How come no one ever thought of it back home? I mean, breban'-Krunch, krunch… Breab'n'veggies'n soss all wrapped together…"

Guts shrugged, and Puck flailed to keep on his perch. "Don't know." He took another bite, and looked around. The buildings here were taller than Liore's… But there was no cathedral, to loom over it all. That was a good sign.

"I'm telling you-CHOMP… We ever get back, we can make a killing selling this idea…"

"We'll get back." But he frowned as he said it. A week ago he'd been sure of that. But the more he saw of this world…

_It doesn't matter._ He cut off his imagination. _Have to find Caska. Everything else after that, can happen after._

He finished the sand-witch in three bites, and looked for a likely person. Winry had given him a few suggestions for finding Caska, and the first of them had sounded the best…

"Hey. Can I ask you a question?" He asked a blue-coated woman, who was leaning against the wall and watching people depart the train.

She glanced over at him. And up. Cool blue eyes, and blonde hair bound back in a no-nonsense braid. _She's killed before._ Guts knew, as she stared back at him. _Well, that's one thing confirmed. These blue-coats are probably soldiers, not the town guard…_

"I'm on duty, citizen."

He nodded, and turned to leave. "Good enough." _Military's trouble I don't need._

"Wait."

He stopped. "Have you been through Central in the last week?" She asked. He could feel her eyes assessing him, as he stood still.

He glanced over his shoulder. "Nope."

"Where was your last stop?"

"A town called Resembool." He answered. She nodded, eyes not leaving his face.

She didn't speak for another minute. "You want something else?" Guts asked.

"What were you going to ask me?"

Guts shrugged. "I'm looking for a painter named Gineaux. I heard he has a studio around here…"

"Three streets down, hang a left and head north until you see a small café. He's got a room across from it. It's got a sign of a brush and easel by the door."

Guts nodded. "Thanks."

And he moved off into the crowd, towering over the mass of people swirling around him, lost in their everyday routine.

The blonde soldier's eyes followed him down the street, until he turned the corner.

Lt. Hawkeye frowned, as he passed from her sight.

_I don't think he was lying, so he's probably not the killer. But in some way, some how, that man is trouble…_

Neither of them saw the dark-skinned man with the white "X" scarred on his forehead, as he adjusted his sunglasses and moved into the alleyways…

---

Gineaux proved to be most agreeable to a few gold coins, and Guts left the studio a few hours later, with a piece of paper in his hand, and a few more rolled up and tucked into his cloak's pockets. He stopped and leaned against the wall to consider it, and Puck leaned forward from his shoulder, to whistle.

"That's a GOOD picture!"

Gineaux had gotten her skin shaded just right, and the eyes were spot on. The nose and lips were a little tricky, but they were close enough to the real thing that Guts hadn't argued.

_Doesn't have to be perfect. Just has to be close enough for the normal guy on the street._

He looked up. The sun was starting to set, and the streets were getting emptier by the minute. "C'mon elf, let's find an inn. We'll start asking around tomorrow."

"YOU'LL start asking around, you mean. Remember, I'm next to invisible 'round these parts…"

Guts grunted. Then his eye slid across the street, to a familiar-looking blonde sitting at one of the café tables. She was wearing different clothes, but her hair was still the same. She was watching him evenly over a menu, and gave him a nod when she saw he had noticed her. He raised a hand in response, before heading down the street.

"She's STILL watching us? Oh, that can't be good." Puck sulked. He glared back at her, unseen.

Guts didn't reply, just walking down the street. He'd passed what looked like an inn on the way here, and his pouch had enough coin in it for at least a night or two.

_That woman's got eyes like a hawk…_

**ONE HOUR LATER**

It was indeed an inn, and they were happy enough to make change for his third-to-last gold coin. They gave him a handful of paper with pictures on it, which was pretty strange. Still, he figured he could fake it if he had to use the stuff later.

In any case, he had a room and dinner. Dinner was stew, which was pretty much the same in this world as it was in his own. There's only so much you could DO with stew, when you got down to it.

No one else in the common room seemed to pay him much mind. _Probably helps that I left the sword upstairs. _

He tucked into his bowl, holding it close as he spooned the broth up. He'd already asked the innkeeper about Caska, and gotten the usual negative response. Tomorrow he'd hit the streets, and see what he could find.

The door opened, letting night air in. He glanced up as two slim figures walked in, dressed in casual clothes. Both were wearing blue pants… One was the blonde woman again, and the other was an unfamiliar man with short black hair, and a permanent smile etched on his narrow face.

"Agh, not again! What does she WANT?" Puck howled, plumping his elbows on the table, and pouting.

The woman followed the strange man like a bodyguard, scanning the room for trouble and letting him get two steps forward before following. Now that she wasn't wearing her blue coat, Guts could see the gun sheathed at her side.

They headed straight for his table.

He took a bite of stew, and watched them approach.

They stopped, and looked him over for a second. Guts looked back. The strange man smiled. "Mind if we sit here?"

"Suit yourself."

The stranger eased himself into a chair, and waved at the innkeeper. "Three beers! Charge it to the command post."

The woman grimaced. "Sir…"

"Relax, Riza. We're off-duty, after all."

He grinned at Guts, who looked back, a bland expression on his face. "I suppose I should introduce myself. The name's Mustang, Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang. This is my best sharpshooter, Lieutenant Hawkeye. And you are…"

"Almost done with my meal." Guts took another bite of stew, and ignored Mustang's outstretched hand.

He could feel the woman's eyes on him again. She hadn't taken a seat next to her boss.

"Hawkeye? Huh, that fits." Puck stared up at her, bored.

"Doesn't it though? I have to wonder if she changed it when she joined the service." Roy smiled.

Puck fell off the table.

Guts looked back up at Mustang, and slowly put the spoon down.

Mustang smiled back. Hawkeye looked at him like he was nuts.

"You can hear him."

"And see him."

"Remind me never to play cards with you."

Puck crawled back onto the table. "Why you? I mean, seriously, the only people who've seen me so far are… Well, they're not exactly people…" Puck squinted at him, suspicious.

Mustang shrugged. "I have no clue. But I figured since no one else in the room was gawking at you, I should play along."

"Sir?" Asked Hawkeye, glowering down at the Colonel. "Am I missing something here?"

"Yes, but don't worry about it."

Hawkeye's face flushed slightly. Mustang continued, oblivious. "So, who are you again?"

Guts leaned back. "The name's Guts. He's Puck. We're just passing through."

"Guts… Guts… You wouldn't happen to have been through Liore a week ago or so, would you?"

"Good guess."

"No guess at all. I read Ed's report."

"You know Ed?"

"The Fullmetal alchemist? Naturally. He works for me, after all. And yes, I know Al too. And I know what happened in Liore, with Cornello."

"What did happen? I ended up leaving before that was finished."

"They exposed Cornello for a fraud. Ed ended up defeating him in alchemical combat. Supposed to have been pretty impressive…"

"And afterwards?"

Mustang leaned back, his smile fading a bit.

"Afterwards… Well. The people had a lot of faith invested in Cornello. When that was gone…"

"Not a happy ending."

"I haven't told Fullmetal yet, but the military's been called in. Riots. Anarchy. Mob violence… That old familiar song."

Guts nodded. "Not too pretty. So what do you want?"

"You're not much for small talk, are you?"

"Nope."

"Good enough. You know Ed and Al, you know what they're after."

Guts nodded. "The phil-" Mustang shook his head. "No need to name it."

Puck snorted. "Not like this is the best place to discuss secret things anyway…"

Mustang grinned at the little elf. "I could ask you back to my place, but I wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea."

Puck nearly fell off the table again. Hawkeye's eyebrows shot straight up on her forehead. Guts took a pull of his beer.

"But no," said Mustang. "You asked what I want… Long-term ambitions and impossible wishes aside, I need someone to check up on Ed and Al. They're following up another rumor on that item, in a small village not far from Eastern."

"Forget it."

Mustang leaned back, and took a sip of his own beer. "Why not? I'll pay you, if that's what it takes. Al said you were a mercenary."

"I don't have time to nursemaid kids. Besides, they can take care of themselves."

Mustang made a circle with his mug. "Normally, yes. They're very competent… don't tell them I said that, mind you."

"But… I'm not sure they know the full details of the situation. They're looking for a doctor, but so is another branch of the military. One that doesn't have as many scruples. If Ed's not careful, he could end up in jail or worse."

Guts put his mug down. "And you want me to reign them in?"

"In a nutshell… Yes. Or just keep an eye on them. Those two attract trouble."

"Why me?"

"The lieutenant here came to me today and said she'd found someone who practically radiated trouble. Asked for permission to keep you under surveillance, said that sooner or later it'd pay off."

Lieutenant Hawkeye stared straight ahead, her beer untouched on the table.

Guts shook his head. "I can't. There's someone I need to find."

"No problem. We'll help you look!"

Guts considered him for a second. Mustang grinned back. "I'm pretty high up on the chain of command around here, and I'll only get higher. You tell me who you're looking for, I can pass it along as a general order. You'll have the entire military on your side!"

Puck sat up. "You can do that?"

"You bet your little naked green ass I can!"

Hawkeye had long ago given up on Mustang making any sense. Still, she couldn't suppress her rolling eyes.

Guts nodded. "All right. If you can find her, you can find me. If you find her, you let me know."

"Her, huh? Not a problem. Got a description?"

"Better." Guts pulled out the portrait, and the two officers leaned over it. Mustang whistled. "So THAT's what you were doing at an artist's place… Here I thought I had you pegged as a nude model."

"What?"

"Nevermind. Can I keep this?"

"Sure. I've got more."

"Anything else I should know? Name, weight, all that happy stuff?"

"Caska. But, she doesn't always answer to it. She's shorter than me by a head and a half, and pretty light. She can't talk, her mind… She's mad." It hurt to say it, but he didn't see any point to sugar-coating it.

Mustang nodded, and handed the portrait to Hawkeye, who carefully rolled it up. "Good enough. We've got a deal, then."

Guts nodded. "Guess so."

---

"Are we there yet?"

It was a sunny day, the next morning. Guts had followed Mustang's directions as best he could, but the man had been annoyingly vague. Puck wasn't too happy about it.

"Little naked green ass… ooooh! What a weird guy! And how come only the annoying people get to see me? Well, not Al, he's not annoying… Listen, what were Must-ink's last instructions?"

"He said to just follow the explosions."

"Fff. Yeah, right. What possible use is-"

BOOM.

"…Oh, you've got to be kidding me…"

Guts started running. Puck grabbed ahold of his cloak, and held on for dear life…

They found the twisted remnants of a machine, with a few groaning blue-suited soldiers scattered around it. A bald man lay face-down, with a pool of blood around his head.

"What happened here?"

One of the soldiers pointed down the street. "Killer… Got, General Grand… Fullmetal…"

Guts looked up, in time to see a strange man down the street slam his fist into a stone wall. The wall blew inward, and the man dashed into the hole.

"What the hell!" Yelled Puck. "That guy just punched out a WALL?"

"Yup. Come on."

He arrived at the wall in time to see the backs of Ed and Al, and an unfamiliar older man, kneeling in the tunnel beyond. In front of them, a man wearing a tan jacket and some sort of eye-coverings, was busy preaching. His hair was two-toned, white and black, and his skin was dark. A large white scar adorned his forehead.

"…God is generous. Crystal alchemist, I'll finish you after I'm done with Fullmetal here."

"Hey."

The Scarred man looked up. Ed and Al looked over.

Guts stepped through the wall, drawing his sword and balancing it on his shoulder. It barely fit within the confines of the tunnel that surrounded them.

"You leave God out of this. He doesn't care, anyway."

"You!" Shouted Ed. "Get lost! I don't need your help…"

"Guts!" Said Al. "Oh, GOOD, she DID help you…"

The Scarred man stared, his voice low and threatening. "Take Fullmetal's advice. This is none of your affair. You WON'T be spared if you interfere."

"Thanks for the tip." Said Guts.

Scar's eyes followed the massive blade, as Guts brought it around one-handed, and fell into a two-handed stance, leveling it directly at his eyes.

"But I think I'll interfere."

"You had your chance." Scar said.

And the Scarred man raised his hand, clenching his fingers together as he began his charge…


	26. An arm for an arm

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Sorry for the delay on this one, but real life had a few distractions. That, and getting the fight JUST right took some time…**

**EASTERN CITY OUTSKIRTS, RAIN OVERFLOW TUNNEL**

"Watch out!" Yelled Al. "Don't let his hand touch you!"

Guts didn't have time to respond. _He's fast! _He thought, as Scar darted through the distance between them. _Probably assuming that I'll go for a thrust…_

Guts leaped back, cape billowing about him. As he landed, he swung the massive sword, watching as Scar skidded to a stop, dancing backwards. Scar narrowed his eyes, and dashed forward as the massive blade carved air past him. He moved into the backswing, arm stretching out towards Guts' head…

And was taken by surprise as Guts stopped his swing in an instant, flipped the sword up lengthwise, and slammed the flat of the blade into Scar's side. Scar bounced off the wall, scrambling to his feet, left arm holding his chest…

Guts nodded to Al. "Thanks again. Easier to keep them alive when I've got two feet to stand on."

Ed glared at Al, who waved. "You're welcome!"

"Keep them alive…" Scar staggered, and slammed his fist into the wall. "Don't patronize me!"

A rippling burst of energy shattered along the tunnel, bursting bricks from their sockets, and sending them flying! Puck wailed and hit the dirt, and Guts raised his free arm in front of his face, guarding his eye from the flying shards. Brick dust boiled, and Guts clenched his teeth and started to bring his sword around…

Too slow. A brown hand grabbed ahold of his arm, and there was a boiling HISS…

That faded to nothing. Scar's red eyes widened, as he realized that he was holding metal instead of flesh. "You too?"

There was a KRUNCH, as Guts slammed his forehead into Scar's face. The brown man reeled back, and Guts followed up with a left hook into his ribs. Scar flew across the tunnel and coughed blood, as he struck and rebounded from the floor.

Guts shook his head, and flexed his metal fingers. The casing on his arm was dented, but it looked like it wasn't badly damaged. "So. You two know what that was all about?"

"It's not over yet!" Ed yelled, calling a metal spear out of the ground. He leveled it at Scar, who was rising to his feet yet again… Al took the time to grab the older man, and rush him down the tunnel. "Come on Doctor! Let's get you to safety…"

Scar spat blood, and mopped at his broken nose. He met Guts' stare with a furious glare, red eyes promising blood for blood, and pain for pain.

Guts blinked. _Persistent guy. Pretty tough, too._

_Reminds me of me. And if all he has to do is touch me… I can't get cocky here. But I'm not the only one here to worry about..._

Bricks tumbled down from the ceiling, and there was a creaking from within the stone of the tunnel. Guts frowned. "Ed, get to Al. I've got this."

"Like hell!"

"No arguments! I'll meet you on the other side."

Ed turned his head to argue, and Scar was on him before he could look back! One swipe from his hand disintegrated the spear, and the other hand grabbed Ed by the neck! The scarred man's right arm drew back for the killing stroke…

And Scar yelled, as knives sprouted from his arm. Dropping Ed, he whirled back around to glare at Guts, and managed to duck the last two knives from hitting his neck.

"Go! See to your brother!" His hands empty of knives, Guts picked up his sword from where he'd stuck it in the ground. Metal grated on stone as he pulled it loose, and aimed it once again at the scarred man.

Ed clenched his teeth, scrambled up and started running down the tunnel. Scar snarled, as he pulled the last knife from his left arm. "I may have underestimated you before, but that won't happen again. You will NOT stand in the way of my vengeance."

"So. You're looking to kill those kids, that the deal?"

"I'm executing alchemists. This is JUSTICE."

"From where I'm standing now… There's just us. You still got the option to leave. Call it quits."

"Never." Scar straightened up…

And slammed his fist into the ceiling. Surprised, Guts tucked his sword back and started running forward… Too late.

Bricks and stone rained down on him, and the world turned black…

**SOME TIME LATER**

Colonel Mustang trotted up to the dig, saluting to Lieutenant Hawkeye as she saluted back. "Any progress?"

"No bodies yet. It looks like mostly debris, and a few witnesses placed Fullmetal and his brother as escorting an older man away just before the collapse."

"All right. Well, if we're lucky, the killer's still under there. Make sure that everyone's got-"

"He's long gone. But Guts is still under here! Not much air left, you need to get him out quick!" A fluttering green form grabbed his lapels, as Puck howled up in Mustang's face.

"Show me where to dig."

"Sir?" Hawkeye gestured around at the debris. "We're excavating as we can through this area…"

"Not you, the elf."

Hawkeye's face flushed, as a few of the soldiers stopped digging to look up. "Sir, this is NOT the time to play around…"

"He's over here!" Called Puck, zooming over to a pile of rubble.

"Good. You two, shift that rubble. Be careful with it, I think we have a survivor."

A few minutes later, the rock slid aside to reveal Guts, squatting against the wall in a cramped, narrow space. He looked up with his face covered in dust and streaks of blood, and grinned. "What took you?"

"Sorry for the wait. Where's the killer?"

"Don't know. He dropped the ceiling on me and ran."

"All right." With the soldiers' help, and Puck cheering them on inaudibly, Guts was hoisted from the hole. Mustang whistled, as the full extent of his injuries became visible. A purple-black spray of bruises covered the parts of his chest that were visible under his torn shirt, and a mass of scrapes and tears criss-crossed their way across his arm and legs.

"You're a mess."

"I've had worse."

"So what's he look like, anyway? We've never had anyone survive a fight with him."

"Well, he had brown skin, red eyes, and a big white X-shaped scar on his forehead… What?"

Mustang's face had gone somber. "Well. At least we know his motive. He's Ishbalan."

Hawkeye looked away. "Sir, Fullmetal and the others are still unaccounted for. We need to continue the search, immediately."

"I'll help."

"You're pretty badly torn up. Are you sure you want to keep going?"

"This is nothing. Besides, we got a bargain, right?"

Mustang nodded. "All right…"

**FOUR HOURS LATER**

It was raining by the time they caught up to him, and what they saw in the alleyway…

Al was down, half his armor in shattered shards, with nothing underneath.

Ed's automail was in ruins, and he was kneeling, kneeling with Scar's hand on his head!

"NO!"

Ignoring the shouts of the soldiers around him, not hearing Mustang shouting next to him, Guts charged forward, drawing his sword as he went…

As a sparkling red stone flew from the older man next to Al, and Scar caught it, and SCREAMED. Ed rolled clear, and ran to Al…

There was a flash of red light, and Scar looked up from his pain to see Guts charging straight for him, the massive blade descending toward his head…

Even in pain, it was child's play for Scar to dash aside and get his hand around Guts' arm and swing him around, using the big man's momentum against him…

And ending up with his right hand wrapped around Guts' left.

BLAM!

Godo's masterpiece blew into a thousand fragments, one nicking Guts' cheek as it went by, and Scar grinned in triumph…

…Only to realize that he was staring straight into a muzzle, as Guts dropped his sword, pointed his stump at Scar, and pulled the ripcord.

BOOM.

And then there was silence.

When the smoke cleared, the Elrics, Dr. Marcoh, the Military, and Guts were left staring at the bloody remnants of a muscular tattooed arm, torn from the shoulder and pulped by the point-blank cannonball.

Guts looked up, following the blood-smear, up to the hole in the building across the way.

He scooped up his sword, one-handed, and ran to the entrance.

"Come on!" Mustang waved the soldiers forward, leading the charge…

There was a muffled WHUMP from inside the building, which shook like it was going to come down. Smoke rolled out of the hole. Guts frowned, as he leaped through the dust and debris. _That sounded like a couple of my bombs…_

He spared a glance down at his belt, and noticed a pair of pouches missing. _Must have happened when he grabbed me. It IS my bombs!_

He found the main room of the house, and waved dust away… To reveal a gaping hole in the wooden floor. The hole disappeared down into darkness, and a scent of human waste and musty water rolled out of it.

"Damn! He's gotten into the sewers." Mustang skidded to a stop, right behind him. "Havoc, Breda, get a party together. Block off the entrances, keep a watch."

"But… But sir, he's a monster! We're just regular guys…"

"He's lost an arm, stop being wimps!"

Hawkeye caught up to them, holstering her pistols. "A delegation from military intelligence has arrived, to take custody of Marcoh."

"Damn! I need to go deal with this. Guts, thanks for your help. I'm going to have to ask you to stick around a little longer…"

Guts shrugged, and sheathed his sword. _With that arm gone, he might not be able to do his exploding trick. That takes care of that._

He followed the soldiers out, ignoring the scene as Mustang and the other soldiers escorted Dr. Marcoh into custody. He ambled over to the Elrics, sorting through his pouches as he went.

_Okay, so he got the bombs. No big deal, I know how to make those. They're replaceable, and black powder's pretty easy to find here. So what else is missing…_

He stopped, cold. His eye narrowed. Puck flitted over from the roof where he had perched to watch the fight. "What's wrong?"

"You know that Behelit I've been carrying around?"

"Yeah…"

"It's gone."

**THE SEWERS OF EASTERN CITY**

The scarred man leaned against the wall, and held one end of the tourniquet steady with his teeth, as he finished tying it around his shoulder. It was terrible pain, but he'd been through similar pain before, long ago. He had survived then, and he would survive now.

_It would have taken me in the face. If I hadn't dodged, it would have taken my head off instead of…_

He almost wished that the blast HAD taken his head off. _My brother's arm. My brother's arm, the last remnant of him… It's gone._

He sunk back against the wall, his eyes staring into nothing. _It was my hope for vengeance, for closure. But now… Now it's gone._

_What do I do now? Oh sweet Ishbala, what do I do now?_

And as he hugged his left arm around his chest, he felt something hard and round against his side.

_That other pouch that I snatched from the one-eyed man. The first one had bombs… What does this one have?_

He pulled it out and considered it, dourly. _What does it matter now? There's nothing in it that could possibly help my situation._

Still, he found his fingers working the drawstring. Awkward, with only one hand, but manageable. The constant throbbing of his shoulder dulled, and he found himself moving as if in a haze. _This is like a dream. What is this?_

The pouch opened, and there was a sound like distant muttering. Placing it on his lap, Scar reached down into the leather bag, and pulled out something round, something like an egg…

And he looked into the open eye of the ugly little rock, and smiled to see the grotesque face sprawled across it.

The eye blinked, and for some reason he felt no disgust, only amusement.

Scar chuckled.

Looping it by its thong around his neck, he rose to his feet. The pain was gone, somehow… They would search the sewers soon, and he knew he had to move.

_This is fate._ He knew, and could not explain why he knew.

And I'll go where my fate takes me…

With that final thought, Scar disappeared into the darkness of the sewers…


	27. Rearmed, Reloaded

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Jayhawk, thanks for the info! Could you private message me the URL for the site, though? I'm having no luck finding it. Many thanks…**

**EASTERN CITY MILITARY HQ**

"I see." Roy Mustang put down the phone, and sighed. Leaning back in his chair, he looked out the window and watched the rain trickle down.

"Problems?" Asked Hawkeye.

"Possibly. Marcoh's in military intelligence's hands now. The Fuehrer sent his secretary down personally to take charge of him."

"His SECRETARY?"

"I really don't understand it myself. Something to do with that mess in Central, two nights back. She should be arriving by train any time now."

"Actually, she's arrived. And she's not the only one."

Roy and Hawkeye snapped their heads around, to see a familiar lanky figure leaning against the door.

"Maes! You old dog…"

"Roy, Roy! You're looking swell… But not as swell as MY ELICIA! SEE?"

Brandishing photos in both hands, he advanced on the two suddenly nervous and sweating officers.

"Ah-haha… Maybe later, Maes…"

"But look! This is Elicia on her little tricycle, she follows me around everywhere I go now! And this is Elicia's first attempt at wiffle-bat! Okay, now this next one is Elicia saying sorry to daddy after the wiffle-bat hit daddy in the groin and he had to lay down a while…"

"Maes."

"And here she is asleep, in her tiger-jammies! See? See!"

" MAJOR MAES HUGHES!"

"Actually, it's Lieutenant Colonel now, Roy. I got a promotion while you were kicking around here."

"What? Oh no… Don't tell me…"

"Yep! I'm EQUAL RANK to you Roy…"

Roy Mustang slumped into his desk, and thumped his face against it, sending random paperwork flying. "No justice! NO JUSTICE IN THIS WORLD!"

"…at least, that's what I'd like to say. But it'd be a lie."

"What?"

"Command's impressed by the job you're doing out here. Your prompt pursuit of the alchemist killer, and the finding of Dr. Marcoh… Well, that and a few other things… You're getting promoted, too! I had to come and deliver the good news as soon as I heard."

"Well, now." Mustang leaned back and smiled, as Hawkeye suppressed her own grin. "This is good news, but you didn't have to come all the way down here…"

He looked up. Maes was shutting the door, his smile gone from his face. "Actually, it's not the only reason I'm here, Roy."

All humor vanished, Mustang nodded as he shut the window. "Go on."

"Something went down a few nights ago in Central. Something that killed 23 soldiers. And I still don't know quite what happened, or why those men are dead. It's being sold as a cell of Ishbalan terrorists rooted out, but…"

"Bunk."

"Plain and simple. What's more, the Fuhrer himself led the assault, with Major Armstrong the only alchemical backup."

"Hm. This must be connected to the Fuhrer's absence, when the rest of the bigwigs from Central ran here."

"Got to be. He also knows more about this whole detail. Odd, how much he knows… And I don't know where he got the intel. It didn't come through me, or any of my colleagues."

"What makes you say that?"

"There was an armored man guarding the assault site. He took several bullets right through the armor… Roy, I put one in his HEAD. But he kept on going. And when Major Armstrong rusted his armor away from him, there was nothing underneath. Sound familiar?"

Roy's eyes snapped to Hughes. "Another bound soul, like Fullmetal's brother?"

"Must have been. Armstrong didn't know what was going on, but I recognized the signs. But the hell of it is, Roy…"

"The Fuhrer had me up in a sniping spot. When he came by to check, I reported one armored figure in the yard. His exact orders to Armstrong on hearing that were… "Your orders are to disable that armored thing, and prevent anyone from escaping."

"That armored thing." Mused Roy.

"Yep. Not that armored MAN, but that armored THING."

"And how would he know about that beforehand? And if he did, why didn't he warn you that bullets would do no good?"

Maes shook his head. "I don't know, yet. But listen, we retrieved two captives from the lab. One was the Fuhrer's secretary…"

"Strange. Might explain why he knew it, someone could have been trying to blackmail him."

"…And the other was this woman."

Maes pulled out a photograph.

Roy took it, and frowned. His eyes widened, and he reached inside his desk, pulling out a roll of paper. He compared the two, the drawing to the photograph. "It's her. Has to be."

"Yep. It's a perfect match to that description that you telegraphed to every post yesterday. Who is she, Roy? Why is she so important?"

"Believe it or not, I really don't have a clue. Here's what I know about the whole thing…"

---

"It's okay brother, we'll just have to go back to Resembool."

The Elric brothers had been shuffled off to the barracks, to rest and recuperate. Guts had invited himself along, at Lt. Col. Mustang's request. No one seemed to mind their presence there, and the soldiers were out canvassing the streets.

Looking for the Scarred man…

Ed sighed. "This is a real delay. And after we got so close…"

"We have Doctor Marcoh's clues, anyway. It won't take long to get to Central after that."

"Central?" Asked Guts. He was in the middle of scouring out his cannon, using a rag to clean the powder residue and swab the barrel attached to his stump.

"Yeah. It's the capital of Amestris." Ed said, not looking at him. Though the older Elric brother had been civil to Guts since the alley, he still wasn't speaking to him except to answer questions. Guts didn't mind.

"Amestris… Nice name. Wondered what this place was called." Guts finished swabbing, and looked at the muzzle. _Can't reload it without the arm covering the muzzle. The ball's a tight fit, but I don't want to risk it falling out, or the powder leaking…_

"Uh. Sorry to ask, but why do you have a cannon in your arm?" Al asked, his voice sounding odd with half of his body blown open.

Puck grinned, as he drummed his heels on Guts forehead. "It's like a holdout knife, you know those things people keep in their boots, or up their sleeves."

"Yeah, but… A holdout CANNON?"

"Yep." Guts stowed the greasy rag, and pulled out his sword. Frowning, he looked it over.

_Not even a scratch. And this is after a tunnel fell on me… What's going on here?_

"What the Hell do you need that heavy weaponry for?" Ed burst out, face flushing. "You know what kind of horrific damage those things do to people?"

"I know it well." Said Guts.

"Then why do you use them? Why not use something that doesn't maul, cripple, or kill anyone it hits?"

Guts was quiet for a long time. Finally, he slid the sword back into its harness, pulled his pants leg up, and studied his new leg. _Looks good. This is some pretty nice work… I'll strip it and give it a cleaning when I've got two arms to work with._

"Brother…" Al started, as Ed ground his teeth in the silence.

"Hey, don't pretend like you didn't hear the question! I want to know, dammit…"

Guts turned his head, his face unsmiling, and calm.

"I use these because the guy I'm after, and all of his troops… This can kill them." He touched his sword, briefly.

"And a lot of times, it's barely enough."

"You're joking." Al said.

Puck shook his head, moving over to one of the bunks. "No, he's not. Trust me on this… The people he's after, they're not human anymore... Or maybe some of them weren't to begin with."

"Not human…" Muttered Al.

"Oh, so it's revenge." Ed leaned back. "Still, I guess… I've heard worse reasons. And you saved us back there. Gotta admit, that was some pretty good fighting. You didn't have that much trouble with Scar."

"Are you kidding?" Asked Guts.

"It was all I could do not to die. If he'd grabbed my other arm…" Guts shook his head. "This world of yours is hard on limbs." He thumped his artificial leg against the floor, and glanced over Ed's own prosthetics.

"Heh. You got that right."

"Wait. You said this world of OURS." Al broke in. "And the people you're after aren't human anymore? Look, where are you from, anyway?"

Guts laid back on the bunk, adjusting his cloak underneath him. "That's… A long story."

"Well, we're not going anywhere right now." Said Al. "Lt. Col. Mustang's orders."

"Huh." Guts muttered. _Do I have a problem with telling it? _He studied the Elrics for a minute. _Not really. These two, I get the feeling they're okay_.

_But where the Hell do I start?_

He opened his mouth, and thought, as Puck watched him with an expectant look. "Oooh, story-time…"

"Okay. So, have you ever heard of a place called Midland?"

The door slammed open, and all four of them jumped. Whipping their heads around, they saw a small figure in the doorway, practically quaking with rage. A bandanna was around her head, and a wrench was in her hand…

"EDWARD ELRIC! WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY ARM?"

"Ahhh…." Ed babbled.

"Uh, hi Winry…" Al piped up.

"Um…" Guts said, as sweatdrops rolled down each of their faces.

The wrench turned into a whirling blur of metal, colliding with Ed's skull as she grabbed ahold of his dizzy form, and ranted for a full two minutes, chastising him about picking fights, and busting up some of her best work.

Guts watched with his eye wide open, and held up a placating hand as she turned to him. "AND YOU! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO TELL HIM TO BE CAREFUL, REMIND HIM THAT oh my gosh, what happened to your arm?"

"Well, uh…"

Winry sighed, then glared between Ed and Guts. "You weren't fighting each other, were you?"

"No, no. It was…"

"Good. Because then, I couldn't forgive you. But losing that masterpiece… That's a problem."

"Yeah." Guts looked down. "I know. Didn't have any choice in it."

"Actually, we saved the parts." Said Al. "They're in that bucket over there."

Winry was at the bucket in a flash, sorting through the bits of metal. "Mmph. No good, it's in too many pieces. I could maybe do a jury-rig, but it'd never work as well. Those weights were perfectly balanced…"

"We could do it with alchemy." Al offered.

"You could?" Guts looked up, feeling the first stirrings of hope.

"Yeah, it wouldn't be too hard. The inner workings might be a little tricky…"

"Would these help?" Winry pulled out a few sheets of paper, grinning as she rolled them open. Inside were blueprints and sketches, showing levers, pulleys, and… fingers.

"Huh." Said Guts, looking them over. "That's some good drawing."

Winry blushed a bit. "I hope you don't mind. It's some great craftsmanship, the best I've seen. I had to make a record of it, and it's given me some ideas…"

"That's great, Winry! We could put it together now, no trouble." Al said.

"Well, we could if I had MY arm back." Ed snapped. "Hello? We're kind of in pieces, here?"

Winry sighed. "You really don't deserve this, but c'mere."

"No way!" Ed glanced at the wrench.

"Oh, you big baby… No, come here. I was working on a prototype for you. I figured you'd outgrow your old arm soon, so I was going to drop it off with your commanding officer." Winry dug around in her backpack, and pulled out a gleaming metal arm.

"YES!" Ed cheered, as he surged forward… To be met by Winry's straight-arm to his chest. "Hoof!"

"Not so fast! You take care of this one, okay? Don't go getting it broken so easy… Don't fight so much…" Guts watched her scold Ed, and smiled. For a second, she sounded familiar. _She's got it pretty bad for him. Wonder if he knows it?_

"Alright, alright, geeze don't be such a nag… Ow!"

Winry put down the wrench. "Anyway, I'd prefer a table with restraints for this, but we can attach it right now if you're ready."

"Yeah. No time like the present." Ed shrugged off his coat, and bared his stump.

"Good, the nerve feeds are still intact."

"This is the moment I always hate..." Ed clenched his left fist, and held himself perfectly still. He grunted, as she snapped it in place, and tightened the screws, aligning the wires one by one…

And then it was done, and he was flexing metal fingers once more. "Perfect! Now for you, Al. Got the box?"

"It's right over there. Guts, could you bring it over?"

"I'll do it, he's only got one arm right… now…" Winry's voice trailed off.

Guts had used his foot to kick the bulky box into the air, and caught it one-handed. He hauled it over, and looked down at Al. "Where d'ya want it?"

"Uh, just put the scrap around me, in a pile."

He complied, and leaned back as Ed clapped his hands together.

"Ready, Al?"

"Ready, brother!"

A flash of light, and Guts squinted. _Huh. It's just like that light that I saw when I came through the gate. Except there's no pictures and people talking really fast in this one…_

And when the light cleared, Al was standing there, good as new. "Thanks, brother!"

"Anytime! So, want to give it a workout?"

"Not yet. Remember, there's still one more thing to do."

"Right, right." Ed grabbed the bucket, and studied Guts. "Okay. Sit down, and put your arm here on the bed… Since your arm's an intricate mechanism, we'll have to put the pieces in relative order…"

With the help of Winry's notes, they spread the fragments out around his stump. Finally, after double-checking, Ed was ready.

"Hold real still." Clap! Flash.

And Guts raised his arm, once more. He grunted, and turned it from side to side.

_Good._

He tried the fingers, one by one… And the thumb wouldn't move.

_Not so good._

"Not bad. Thumb's off, though."

"Huh. That's not good." Ed said, his brow furrowed. "That part was pretty intricate. We might have to take it back apart and realign the calipers…"

Guts tested the grip by grabbing his left hand with his right, and felt a surge of warmth run up his arm. _What was that?_

He pulled his metal hand away, and studied it again. And this time, as he turned it around, the thumb wiggled. He flexed it, again.

"Oh, you've got it. Good, it must have just slipped out of joint before."

"Guess so." Guts said. _It wasn't working before, and I didn't even touch it with my grip. What's going on here?_

"Allright. C'mon Al, let's get going!"

Ed was across the room, and holding open the door. "What? But brother, we're under orders…" Al cried.

"Orders, schmorders. We've got to get to Central, so we can-"

"Excuse me, young man."

Ed looked around. A woman with mousy brown hair, and a pink dress was smiling down at him. For a second, for just a SECOND, he knew her. Then it was gone.

"Uh, sorry…" He got out of her way, and she swept through the door, a file in her hands.

She looked over the three sitting on the bunks, pausing for a second. And Puck shivered, as her eyes passed over him.

_She was looking at me! _

But now her eyes were solely on Guts. He stared back.

"Colonel Mustang tells me that you're looking for this woman." She held up a small square of card, and his heart nearly stopped. It was an intricate drawing of a woman, very realistic. And-

_It was Caska!_

He had no memory of getting to his feet, or crossing the distance between them. He had her arm in his grip before she could move, and was staring into her face with an almost animal-like intensity!

"Where?" He demanded. "Where is she?"

She didn't flinch. She didn't stop staring. And Guts' eye widened, as he felt a sudden itch…

From the back of his neck. From the brand.

Slowly, he released her arm. "Sorry." His own face slid into a mask, as he studied her.

She smiled. "There are a few people in Central who would like to discuss her with you." Behind her, in the door, the spectacled and lanky form of Lt. Col. Hughes leaned against the frame. His face was grim, as he studied the scene.

"Well then." Guts said, his voice raw. "Why are we still here?"

And she lead the way out the door, with Guts in tow.

Al looked at Hughes. "What's going on, Major?"

He shook his head, unsmiling. "I can't talk about it. Orders. But…"

"You wouldn't happen to have business in Central, would you?"

Ed grinned. "Actually…"

"Good." And with that, Hughes followed after Guts and the strange woman.

Ed glanced at Al, and Winry looked back and forth from one brother to another. "What was that all about?"

"I don't know, but I have a feeling we'll find out. Come on Al…"

"I'm going too."

"What? Why?"

"Because you're going to get your arm broken again, if no one's watching over you."

"I'm sorry… It really was pretty bad, I tried to help him…" Al squeaked. "It's not your fault." Winry said. "He really should be old enough to look after himself, but…"

Ed sighed. "Do what you want. But I think we're going into some pretty heavy stuff. Look, if it gets too bad… Don't risk yourself."

"Edward Elric! I, at least, have the common sense the Creator gave a goat! I'M not the one who takes stupid risks."

Ed flinched, and Al chuckled. "She's got you there."

"Yeah, yeah… Come on then."

"Let's go to Central…"


	28. Chained Lust

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Thanks again to the folks who sent me the URLs to the missing volumes… I'm very fortunate that Berserk has such a large fanbase on the net. Given Dark Horse's slow release schedule on the manga, it'll be another five years before they're caught up to the existing storylines…**

**CENTRAL**

It was raining, and the streetlamps were hazy beacons of light in the darkness. The woman in the hooded cloak strolled down the lane, alone.

There was no one else out, thanks to the hour and the bad weather. This suited her just fine.

In the dim light, she studied a wall plastered with soggy posters, before sneering under her hood. Her fingers flashed out and blurred… And a near-perfect drawing of her face (and cleavage) fell to the ground, the words WANTED IN CONNECTION WITH TERRORIST ACTIVITIES emblazoned underneath the portrait.

"How tiresome." Lust said.

"They could have at least gotten my nose right."

Gluttony was up there as well. She flicked his poster down with a half-hearted wave, but she knew it didn't matter. Central was plastered with their posters, and she had no doubt that more were being shipped with the daily mail to each town in Amestris.

Their ability to move unseen had been compromised. Lust had never really appreciated total anonymity until it was gone. And since most of their old hiding places were known to Pride or Sloth, their movement was now very limited.

They were holed up in a slum apartment right now, after Gluttony had quietly consumed the sleeping occupants. Even that wouldn't be good for much longer… If the rumor was correct, the military would be doing building-to-building searches once a few more of their troops returned from the East.

The situation was not pretty, by any stretch of the imagination. Lust knew the only logical course of action. They should have already fled the city on foot, moved by night, and snuck of the country through one of the lesser-watched borders.

That's what they SHOULD have done. But…

A face flashed through her mind again, with a pair of practically crying eyes. Blank eyes, but there was still something there…

It felt of old memories, the kind that normally hurt like hell. But for some reason, these didn't. _"I'll be back for you. We'll see each other again. Don't worry."_

That's what she had said to Pet. Lust couldn't say why she'd bothered at the time, and she still didn't know. And that worried her.

_Did I have a sister, once?_ She wondered. She'd never recalled her in any of the memories. _The skin's about right, the same tone mine used to be when I was human. The age is about right, could be older or younger. Is she my sister?_

_Did Dante hide her from me? Why was she there when Dante disappeared?_

Too many questions. THAT was why she had to stay, she decided. _But as soon as I retrieve Pet, we're leaving._

Lights swung around the corner, lanterns held in the hands of cloaked policemen. Pulling her hood up a little more, Lust set off down the street. She wouldn't have any good answers as to why she was out in the rain.

Ten minutes later, she had circled the block and was back at the wall. And this time, there was someone waiting there for her.

"I seen her." The beggar whispered.

"Where?" Lust dipped her hand into the pockets of her cloak, and let the coins jingle. The broken-toothed man licked his lips.

"They tooker into the big buildin' that night. The Palace. She ain't cummout since."

Lust frowned. _About what I expected. This is bad news…_

"Good work. Keep an eye out." She handed over silver to the greedy wretch, frowning slightly. _A few days ago, I could just kill him. Now I have to pay him… Killing gets noticed, and without the military covering it up… So annoying._

"Sure, sure… Heh, heh.. Thanks!"

The beggar waved, as her heels clicked away into the night.

He watched her go until she disappeared completely, then his face split into a fiendish grin. "Easy." He whispered, as his shape flickered, and a burst of energy crackled along his frame… Reshaping him into a policeman.

He reached behind the wall, past the cooling corpse of the original beggar, and picked up a lantern. Lighting it with a sulphur match, Envy made his own way into the night…

---

"How is she?" Major Armstrong rumbled. Lieutenant Ross shrugged, and gestured over at the woman. She was tunelessly singing, and playing with a stuffed bear. The surrounding room was full of them, as she seemed to find them comforting.

"More human dolls just make her scream." Said Maria. "I don't know what she's been through, but it must have been bad."

The Major nodded, eyes crinkling as he watched the strange woman play. "Well, she's safe now. Whatever she went through in that Laboratory… Hopefully it's reversible."

Lt. Ross sighed, and leaned back in her chair. The mystery woman had been assigned the one of the guest quarters for visiting diplomats, so at least the furnishings were nice. They'd had to lock the wine cabinet after the first few broken bottles of sticky juice on the floor, but aside from that there were no major problems.

"Well… We'll see. They've had a few doctors in to look at her, but they haven't turned up anything yet."

Major Armstrong nodded, before standing and collecting his coat. "Well, I just stopped in to see how things were going…"

He stopped in the door, and looked back. "You're not allowed to talk about her outside of the Palace, are you? The same instructions that I've got?"

Lt. Ross nodded. "I don't know why…"

"Neither do I. But we have our orders."

And with that, Major Armstrong shut the door, and his footsteps disappeared down the hall.

Lt. Ross sighed, and looked back at Caska in time to get an airborne teddy bear to the face. "Gah!"

"Hee!"

"Oh, you think THAT'S funny!" The Lieutenant grinned, as she grabbed another bear off the nearest table, and proceeded to launch it back.

The initial barrage was followed by a counterstrike, and both combatants utilized available cover to their utmost advantage, but Lt. Ross' superior faux-ursine marksmanship lead to the defeat and surrender of Caska after the Lieutenant closed the distance and initiated a bout of tickling.

Finally, laughing and out of breath, the two of them collapsed on the floor.

Maria was still grinning when the lights went out.

Her grin vanished, and she sat bolt upright. Moving to the window, she saw no lights visible in the rest of the Palace. Then, there was distant gunfire, and shouting.

"Someone's cut the gas lines." She frowned. The strange woman moaned in the darkness… "Ooooooo…"

"Hey, come over here. Come on. Yes, that's right…" Lt Ross moved Caska over behind her, and drew her pistol. Pulling a chair over and sitting down, she aimed at the door with both hands.

_If there's trouble, it'll come through that door. And when it does, it'll eat a bullet or three…_

---

Major Armstrong was heading down the stairs when the lights went out. He frowned. Then, in the distance, gunshots echoed…

"The Fuhrer!"

He turned, and pounded upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. At the fifth floor, he used his officer's key, and entered the restricted floor.

When he got to the Fuhrer's quarters, he was greeted by shuttered lanterns and two rifles pointed at his head. Slowing, he held his hands up until they shined the light on his face. "Major, sorry. The Fuhrer's in conference right now, with Lt. Col Archer."

Lt. Armstrong sighed. "What a relief. Well, I'll help you guard."

"No need for that, Major." The door opened, and Fuhrer King Bradley strolled out, face drawn in the lanternlight. Behind him, Archer nodded at Armstrong.

"Sir?"

"Well, they're probably not after me." The Fuhrer said, rubbing his chin. "No, I'd wager their objective is someone else entirely."

A crash of glass from two floors down. Two shots, then a female voice screaming.

Armstrong started. "Maria! The hostage!"

"Indeed! Come on, Major!"

Armstrong was already in motion, shucking his coat as he went. He straight-armed the door open, and pulled on his cesti as he charged down the stairs. The Fuhrer and Archer followed after him, Bradley's guards shouting in alarm as they were easily outpaced.

Armstrong burst through the door, to smell cordite hanging in the air. He saw the curtains blowing from the shattered window, and cast around… Then the lanterns arrived, and revealed the prone form of Lieutenant Ross, clutching her side and bleeding into the carpet.

"Maria!" He knelt, and gathered her into his arms, as she coughed. "Don't move. We'll get a doctor."

"It's… not bad, KAFF, I… Mostly I had the wind knocked out of me. They took her. You have to get after them! KAFFkaff…"

"You and you, find a doctor." Bradley ordered. The guards saluted, and rushed off.

"They?" Asked Armstrong, still cradling Maria. She shook her head. "Came in through the window, didn't get a good look. Hit me with, KAFF I don't know, an arrow or something. Fast…"

Slowly, Major Armstrong lowered her to the floor. "We can't waste any time, then. We should-"

"No need, Major."

"….What?"

"Thanks to some recent information that Lt. Colonel Archer has unearthed, we know precisely where they're going."

"And we've set up a little welcoming committee for when they return to their haven…"

---

Lust hurried through the streets, limping. Finally ducking into a doorway, she frowned as her leg gave a crackle, then straightened out. The jump from the third story window would have gone much better if she hadn't been carrying Pet…

_But then this little excursion would have been pointless, wouldn't it?_

"Ba?" Asked Pet, from the folds of her cloak. She had been wrapped up and thrown over the Homonculi's shoulder like a spare rug. Lust shushed her, then froze as lanterns appeared in the distant fog. She stretched out a hand to the door behind her, and twisted her fingers. With a faint CLUNK, the lock fell inwards, a perfect circle carved around its frame.

The two vanished inside as the military rushed down the street, spreading out as they went. No one noticed the carved out doorknob…

TWENTY MINUTES LATER

The block around the apartment was quiet, but Lust didn't stop glancing around as they pulled up to the doorway. The door to the slum apartment was firmly shut, and Lust smiled as she unlocked it. She set Pet down, and the brown woman immediately started fumbling her way out of the entrapping cloak.

"Gluttony. Come, we need to leave..." She swung open the door, and peered into the darkness. Her eyes, slightly better than a human's in the dark picked up nothing in the room.

There was a muffled thump from above. Her eyes narrowed, as she spread her fingers, and held her hands tense at her side, watching and waiting…

Then there was a series of thumps… And a pudgy form rolled down the stairs. She let out a sigh. "Stop fooling around and come on."

He grinned up at her, and rolled to his feet. "Back! Back, Lust's back…"

"Grab Pet and come along. We'll need to move quickly. Have you eaten?"

He moved past her, and stretched out meaty arms to the quizzical Pet.

"Yes, I'm fine."

Lust paused.

Lust turned halfway, and speared him with five fingers, pinning him to the doorframe by his limbs and head, as he choked and died.

There was another THUMP from the stairs, and she looked back to see an unfamiliar man in a black, white-ruffed jacket descending the stairs… With an identical Gluttony hanging from the man's leg by his teeth. Her eyes widened. He grinned, and waved a hand. "Yo! You're the new Lust, huh? Wow, you're a babe."

Her hand whipped up, and snapped out… As the man twisted aside, and lifted the other Gluttony in her path. She speared the fat man to the stairway, as the stranger blurred into motion!

Before she could retract her fingers, the man had blurred across the floor, and tackled her! She withdrew her fingers, only to find him pinning her arms to her side, and grinning down at her… She whipped a thumb towards his face, and into the ceiling above as he twisted to the side… She blinked. Her thumb had torn away the flesh from the side of his face, but there was something underneath. Something that was dark and shone dully like stone…

"Nice, huh? I call it the Ultimate shield. I really don't know what'd happen if your Ultimate Lance hit it square on, but no point in taking chances."

She struggled, and he casually snapped her forearms.

Lust frowned. "Who are you supposed to be? A secret homonculus?"

"He's Greed. Dante decided to tuck him away for his Sin." A familiar voice wafted over from the doorway, and she glanced back to see Envy, with his arm around a struggling Pet.

"NO HURT LUST!" Gluttony had revived from Lust's impalement, and started his charge… As Envy held a gun to Pet's head.

"Stop." Commanded Lust, and the pudgy little man halted, confused. Greed grinned down at her. "Good girl. God DAMN you're a babe. Stacked, and smart, too. I'd love to stick around and play, but we've got stuff to do. Well, that and you'd probably kill me a few times."

"Is there a point to this?" Lust asked, quietly flexing her newly-healed arms and trying to line her fingers up for a groin shot. Greed snapped them again, as easily as a human would snap a toothpick.

Envy sneered. "Yes. We get your little Pet and space to do our own thing, and Pride gets you and Gluttony. Fair trade, I think. And a few troublesome pieces off the board."

There were shouts from outside, and the sound of running boots moving into position.

Lust chuckled. "You just made another mistake."

Envy frowned. "What?"

"You admitted that Pet has value to you. Gluttony, eat him."

The pudgy man charged. Envy yelled. Pet screamed, and Greed snapped Lust's neck.

It took some time, but she swam out of the darkness… Into pain.

…_A man looking down at her, tears in his eyes. Husband, she knew. She was sick, and the fire was eating her up inside, and she KNEW that he'd never recover…_

The memory hurt, and she tried to swim away from it, only to find herself

…_Helping mama bake cookies, as the big, warm face smiled down at her and told her that she'd make some lucky man very happy when she grew up, such a good cook. "No way!" She heard her own voice, younger then, "Boys are icky!" And her mother just laughed _as Lust screamed in her mind and pulled back

…"_I love you." He was looking into her eyes, and she was staring back and their faces were getting closer and closer, and finally the kiss, and there was warmth and Lust HOWLED inside her mind…_

And woke up.

She was tied to a post, and the room was dark. There were no windows, and humming lights installed in the ceiling. _The new kind, electric ones_ she knew. The same kind that Laboratory 5 used.

She pulled at her bonds, and felt bone grind on bone. Her arms had been broken, and forced into place by chains, doubled back with the elbows bending the opposite way. Her feet were suspended a good foot off the ground, and another series of chains and locks held her waist and neck. She could get no leverage against her bonds.

If she were human, the pain would be insufferable. As it was, it was hardly comfortable.

The door slammed open, and she saw light beyond. Light and worked stone… Not the Laboratory, then. And then Pride moved in, a bag in his hands. In the back of her mind, she heard the whispering begin again, and she started to shake as he untied the bag…

Revealing an old, broken rib bone.

She turned her head slightly to the side, but there was no place she could go to escape that slew of echoes, the memories that reverberated inside her skull frantically…

"Where… Where did you find that?" No sense in pretending, she couldn't hide its effect on her.

"Dante left it in my care. A small precaution if you went rogue. It was useful in keeping you from regenerating until you were back here."

Lust sighed. "She told me all of those were destroyed. Dante lied even in that…"

"Now then. Talk to me, Lust, and do not hold back. Tell me what happened, and perhaps you will live through this after all."

"Also, this is a warning. I'll give it only once."

Pride removed his eyepatch, baring his eye. Electric light shined from the red seal, as it seemed to pulse across the white.

"I will know if you lie. And you will suffer."

Lust clenched her teeth.

And Pride smiled.


	29. The Night Train

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Ever been on a train, the steam engine type? They're slower than you think, modern cars move faster than they ever could. Their big advantage is that they don't have to stop for more than ten minutes or so to refuel, get more water, and let people off and on. They just keep going… If you ever get the chance, try one out. That's my recommendation.**

**Just pick one that has comfy seats. The constant vibration and rattling can turn into a literal pain in the ass. **

**THE TRAIN TO CENTRAL**

"Well, at least we get to travel in luxury for once." Hughes grinned at Mustang. Roy grunted his agreement and leaned back in his seat, sipping a glass of wine. It was an actual leather-upholstered bench, not one of the thin, cloth-covered wooden seats he knew all too well.

The military had reserved the front part of the train, shunting several disgruntled travelers to the middle and rear. Mustang, Hughes, and the rest of Mustang's entourage weren't arguing.

"It is a nice change. Nicer still that we've got a little privacy here."

"Why Roy, I'm a married man… I'm sorry, but my heart can never be yours."

Lt. Hawkeye smirked, as she stood outside the thin curtain separating the booth from several others near it. No one would listen in on this conversation on her watch. At least, that was the plan…

"Can the comedy, Hughes."

"Ah, you're an easy mark, that's all. Still, since there's no real challenge…"

Lt. Hawkeye didn't see Puck, as he perched on her shoulder, shamelessly eavesdropping.

"At any rate, what do you make of it?"

A sigh. A creak of leather, as Hughes leaned back into his own seat. "Damned if I know. I started investigating the facility, only to be shut down everywhere I turn. From Armstrong's description, it was no less than a full-blown alchemical research lab. And I turned it up on some old blueprints… It used to be Central Laboratory #5. But, here's the thing. It was shut down years ago. It was supposed to be an empty building."

"Empty buildings generally don't blow up. Well, maybe when Fullmetal's around, but still…"

"I'm getting a stonewall, too. From quarters I didn't expect… A few of the upper echelons are covering their ass, and not the ones I expected."

"Maybe I can help. Give me a name."

"Basque Grand."

"….. Shit."

"Tell me about it. That killer couldn't have planned it better."

"You think there's a connection?"

"Roy, you told me yourself he was blowing up walls with his bare hands. Being able to explode something with your bare hands is something right up an illegal alchemy lab's alley."

"Damn. This complicates things. And the woman?"

Puck leaned forward.

"We're not even supposed to talk about her without a distinct need-to-know and authorization from the Fuhrer himself. I'm breaking some serious commands doing this, I hope you understand."

"I do. What I don't understand, is why. Can you tell me that?"

"Wish I knew. She's an unknown hostage rescued from the labs. That's all. I've run her prints, but they've come up negative in every record we have. Not a criminal, not in the military, not registered at all."

"Somehow I'm not surprised."

"According to an inside source, she can't talk beyond a babble. Mentally retarded, acts like she's 3. Body of a woman, but a mind younger and more innocent than my Elicia's… Hard to believe, but there you go."

"She's got to be the one he's looking for."

Puck twitched his ears, and grinned. _I'd better go tell Guts!_

"So who's he?"

"You know, I know as much about Guts as you know about your mystery woman. But he more than lived up to his end of the bargain, so I figure I owe him this much."

"You've got no info on him?"

Puck slipped from Hawkeye's shoulder, and sped off down the hall of the train car.

"Well… Have you ever heard of a town called Liore? That's where Fullmetal first ran into him…"

The two voices faded from his hearing, replaced by the click-clacking noise of the train. Puck waited by the door until a conductor came through, then popped into the next car.

This one was a step down from private luxury booths. The seats were leather, but they were in rows.

Ed, Al, and Winry were in here, along with the rest of Mustang's entourage. The soldiers had a card game going, and the Elrics were chatting among themselves. Winry was listening in, making a show of doodling automail diagrams on her sketchbook.

_Odd. _Thought Puck. _Guts was right here a minute ago. His sword's lying across that row of seats, so he can't be far off._

Puck skittered by, unnoticed. Al was the only one who could see him here, and he was busy talking with his brother.

"Are you sure we'll find it in Central?" The hollow-voiced child intoned, clasping his gauntlets together.

"It's the best lead that we've got yet. And Dr. Marcoh had no need to lie." Ed leaned back, and crossed his arms behind his head. "If this works out, we'll have the knowledge we need, easy."

"Is it really going to be that simple?" Winry piped up.

"No, probably not." Said Ed. "Knowing how to make the stone is one thing, but we don't know what kind of materials we'll need, or how much of an array we'll have to build, or… It gets pretty technical. Let's just say that if it were easy to do, a lot more people would have already done it."

"You never take the easy way on things." Winry sighed, returning to her notebook. "Just like Guts, it's always the hard way."

"Tch!" Ed snorted. "Don't lump me in with him. We're nothing alike."

"Not this again, Brother…"

"He kills, Al. He nearly blew that man apart with a cannon. That's attempted murder any way you slice it."

"He did it to save us. And I seem to recall you shooting at people with cannons before."

"That was different."

"A cannon's a cannon. And yours was bigger, I seem to recall."

"Trying to prove something, Ed?" Winry seemed to mean it as an innocent question. She looked honestly puzzled when Al started laughing, and Ed spluttered furiously.

"I, ah, I er, ah, NO! Agh, why do you have to come to Central too?"

"I told you, you keep breaking your automail! Be more careful and I won't have to follow you around!"

"Hey, it's not my fault…"

The door slid open at the far end, and Puck grinned as he buzzed through…

And stopped cold, in the next car. Guts was at the near end, standing in the aisle with his flesh hand gripping the luggage rack.

The brand on his neck was seeping a tiny drop of blood. Puck shivered, and twitched his head around Gut's side.

At the end of the car, the mousy-haired woman stood, equally still, watching Guts carefully. Then her eyes flicked down, to stare directly at Puck through her small spectacles.

He shivered. Just _like that sexless guy back at Liore's gate… She feels wrong, too…_

"All right. So what did you want to talk about?" Guts asked.

"That, for starters. What is that?" The woman's expression barely changed, as she watched Puck buzz up, and land on Guts' shoulder.

"I'm an elf! What are you?"

"I'm a secretary."

"What's that supposed to be?"

"I take messages, write papers, and schedule my employer's business. It's a hard job at times, but occasionally rewarding."

"Job? Oh no, I meant- WA!" Guts had shifted suddenly, and caught Puck with one hand as he fell.

"Whoops. Here you go." Puck glared up at Guts, then caught the look in his eye. _He doesn't want her to know that we know…_

Puck sat still as Guts put him back on his shoulder. "Why is it that not everyone can see you?" The woman continued.

"What's your name?" Asked Guts.

"Juliet. And yours is Guts. But what is his?"

"I'm Puck. And…"

Puck stood up straight on his shoulder, put one hand on his hips, and pointed at her.

"I'm his secretary!"

The woman's lips twitched, and Guts gave him a puzzled look.

"No, really! I take messages to him and schedule his life and stuff. Heck, he'd forget to eat if I didn't remind him now and again. And bathing! Whew, let me tell you…"

"All right, I get the idea." Her lips ended up in a small smile. "But still, I want to know why you're invisible to almost everyone."

Guts looked her in the eye. "And I want to know where Caska is. Are you gonna tell me that?"

Juliet shrugged. "You'll see her soon enough. After you've answered our questions, and we make sure you're not going to harm her."

"Harm her? Not gonna happen." Guts looked away, slightly. Juliet didn't miss it, and her smile disappeared.

Puck sighed. _He still blames himself for that one time… But it wasn't his fault, it was the ghost's…_

"That's not for me to decide." Juliet said, finally. "But, if you answer some questions now, it will speed things up. You'll have fewer to answer when we get there."

Guts nodded.

"Sounds reasonable enough."

"Well, then." Juliet pulled out a pad of paper, and a pen. "For the third time. Why IS it that only certain people can see Puck?"

Guts shrugged. "Magic, I guess."

"Yeah, that's pretty much it." Said Puck. "Some people don't believe in magic, so there's no room in their mind for elves. If someone's never had their beliefs really shaken, then they can't see us."

"Magic." Said the secretary.

"Yeah. Next question?"

She gazed at them with half-closed eyes, before flipping the page of the notebook.

"Where are you from?"

"East."

"From Liore?"

"No. Farther east."

"There's nothing farther East but desert. Unless you're talking about the far Eastern nations… And frankly you don't have the features for that region."

Guts narrowed his eyes. _Going to have to choose my words carefully. I don't trust her, whatever she is. She's sharp… Can't just lie. Have to throw in some truth._

"I come from a place where nothing's left but ruins. I don't know what you call it, but there was a city there once. I survived there, until I made my way west."

The pen stopped, then scratched across the paper. "Ishbal. Are you Ishbalan?"

He shrugged. "Beats me."

"Do you believe in the goddess Ishvara?"

"Who?"

She looked him over for a long moment.

"What ARE you? You're obviously not human."

"Huh?"

"No one human could swing that sword."

He shrugged. "I do."

"Don't lie to me. And that mark on the back of your neck, it's a seal, isn't it?"

Puck stared. Her face showed little emotion, but there was a threatening sound to her voice. He didn't like the way this was going…

Guts shook his head. "It's a brand. I'm human, that's all."

"Lies will get you nowhere. And if you persist, I cannot be responsible for what happens."

Guts simply stared. His teeth clenched together, in a wolf's grin as the train rocked back and forth down the tracks.

"Lady…"

"…I'm as human as you are."

The notebook snapped shut. Juliet adjusted her spectacles, frowning at him slightly.

"Very well. I assure you, we WILL find the answers to these questions, and many more when we arrive. My employer will want to speak to you. I advise you not to lie, for your own good."

She turned, and moved through the far door, letting it shut behind her with a CLICK

Guts stood there for a minute, looking after her. He nodded to himself.

"What the heck was that about?" Puck whispered.

"There's something going on. I can't see what, but it's bad." Guts murmured. "She's a part of it. And now I'm certain… Like that green-hair kid at the gate, she's not human."

"Yeah… It's the same kind of feel. Like pain and power all wrapped up in a human-looking package. Kind of a like an apostle, but… Different. You know?"

Guts shook his head.

"Doesn't matter. And if they've got Caska, this just means we have to get her out of there. Got to be careful until she's out of danger."

Puck nodded. "Gotcha! Careful… Quiet…. Suave… They'll never see us coming, and we'll be ready for anything they try to spring on us!"

The door behind them slammed open. Puck screamed, and dove for cover. Guts looked over his shoulder, to see Lt. Hawkeye at his back.

"We'll be arriving in Central in four hours. Do you need anything?"

"No, thanks. Guess I'll try and catch some sleep."

Guts and Puck followed her back into the car, shutting the door behind him.

And the train clattered on, into the night…


	30. Escape!

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Thank you all for your kind words to date… It's really encouraging to see comments, whether positive or negative. **

**And most of'em are good so far, which is always gratifying. :)**

**CENTRAL**

"Congratulations, Colonel Mustang!" And with a salute from the Fuhrer, and a cheer from the assembled ranks, that was that. Roy matched the salute, and smiled behind his eyes. The Fuhrer nodded to the rest of the assembly ground. "Dismissed!" The soldiers present turned with perfect poise, and marched out.

"Walk with me a while, Colonel." The Fuhrer strolled down the steps, gloved hands behind his back.

"Certainly, sir."

_Odd._ Mustang thought to himself. _The aura this man has… The ability to make it seem like he knows all your worries and dreams, and reassure you that those are his concerns as well. All without opening his mouth or saying a single word._

_If I reach my goal, if one day I'm the one handing out the promotions, will I be able to pull off that same air?_

Roy let himself smile, as they strolled through the yard. The Fuhrer chuckled to himself for a second.

"Sir?"

"Ah, just letting my mind wander. Tell me Mustang, what do you perceive as the biggest threat to our nation at this minute?"

Roy pursed his lips. "Dorakan from the North?"

"Hm!" The Fuhrer nodded, seemingly impressed. "Not many people know about the troubles at the border yet. But no, that wasn't the one I was thinking of."

"No, I've been more concerned recently with traitors. Traitors and saboteurs."

Mustang nodded. _How much to reveal here? Perhaps a bit. Don't want to get Hughes in trouble._

"Would this have something to do with the military action in Central four days ago?"

"Very perceptive, Colonel. Yes, actually, it would. We're still dealing with the loose ends from that, I'm sorry to say."

"And you'd like a few more hands working to tie up these loose ends?"

"You're two for three, Colonel. In fact, this is one of the reasons that I've asked you here. I need good, loyal, reliable officers in places that I can trust them. You're one of them, and I need you here at Central."

Roy nodded, letting his thoughts uncurl_. I half expected something like this… Good, now I don't have to kick it off myself. But…_

"I have a few people I'd like to bring with me from Eastern. And I'll need a briefing on the specifics of these loose ends we need to tie up."

"My secretary is putting together a dossier as we speak. And you've got carte blanche to bring in anyone from Eastern."

"Good. Oh, one more thing. Who is going to replace me in Eastern?"

"I'm appointing Lieutenant Colonel Archer to that post. He'll also handle the rest of the uprising in Liore. That little spot of trouble is well within his capabilities."

_Archer…_ It only took Roy a second to put a face to the name. In the military, if you were serious about landing your general's stars, you kept an eye on the competition. It paid off to know about your fellow officers. In this case, he remembered a serious man with a quiet, almost smug smile, and sharp eyes. Quick to make decisions, and quick to command his subordinates. _Never less than polite, very efficient, but still… The man's shifty. His ambitions aren't too far from mine, I think. He's coming in from military intelligence, too, and that's not a branch famed for its scruples. Hughes is the only one I trust in that lot…_

_Well, it's better that he's heading to Eastern, then. I'll have to work fast, before he gets promoted again. As long as I stay ahead of him, it'll be for the best_.

Roy nodded. "I'm sure he'll do a good job. Still, I'd like to meet with him to discuss details about his new command, let him know about the area…"

"Oh, Lt. Colonel Archer's a bit busy right now, helping me with a minor task." The Fuhrer smiled. "I'm sure you'll have time to talk later. And speaking of business, I'd best be going to attend to some of my own. Take care, Colonel." The Fuhrer smiled, and breaking tradition just a bit, offered a handshake.

Roy kept his face neutral. _This is an unexpected honor! A handshake, and a public one, no less… _In front of the courtyard, and the drilling troops, he shook the Fuhrer's hand.

---

The metal hand came down on the table, scattering the papers. Guts grabbed the edge and leaned across the table, looking at the thin man across from him with his glaring eye.

"You're repeating questions."

The thin man across from him offered a quiet, smug smile. He gathered up the fallen papers, one by one, taking his time and letting Guts seethe before he replied. "Oh, I just want to make sure I have everything down correctly. You're from the East, you said?"

"Yes. I told you this before."

"How is it that we've never heard of any settlements out that way?"

"I'm not from a settlement, I told you."

"And you claim to be a mercenary, but I've never heard of the country you fought for. Midguard, was it?"

"Mid-LAND."

Archer shook his head, and sighed. "I really don't know why you're bothering."

"Look. You ignored the last time I asked. Where is Caska?"

"Ah yes, this woman you're looking for. Why should we tell you? You haven't given any solid reason as to why we should let you see her."

"I'm all she's got left."

Archer smiled, pulling out a file case with a SNAP. One by one, he moved the papers into the folders, before standing. "Well. I think we're done here."

"Hey. Don't jerk me around. Where is Caska, and when can I see her?"

"Your story's full of holes, you're quite obviously a highly dangerous man, and you either cannot or will not tell me anything about her background. At this point, it would not be prudent to let you anywhere NEAR her." Archer crossed the floor of the room, and knocked on the door. The guard cracked it open, nodded to him, and resumed his post.

Guts glared… And concealed his smile, as Puck used the opportunity to zoom in under Archer's nose.

Archer, oblivious, continued. "Tell the guard to find me, if you feel like being a little more forthcoming about the facts. Until then, don't waste my time."

He left, the door closed, and Guts waved at Puck. "Yo." He muttered.

"I think I have something… How'd things go?"

"Not good. They're askin' too many questions. Can't give them the answers, they wouldn't believe'em."

"Yeah… Anyway, listen up. In the basement, there's two guards in front of a heavy door. I mean, it's a solid slab of steel. I listened to one of the guards talking to the other… One asked what was in there, and the other said that they couldn't talk about it on the outside. He explained that the Furrier goes in there sometimes, and you can hear a woman screaming while he's there, if you listen at the door."

"Furrier?"

"Yeah. Beats me, they didn't talk about it anymore. Just told the new guy not to repeat it anywhere, or he'd be peeling potatoes for the rest of his life."

"A woman, screaming…" Guts considered, for a long minute. His face darkened.

"You checked out the rest of this place?"

"Everywhere I could get to. No sign of her."

Guts nodded, walked over to the bed, and pulled his sword over to the table. With his other hand he dug out a whetstone, and started sharpening the blade.

"Uh, shouldn't we be going to the rescue?" Asked Puck.

"Yeah. But we can't do this one stupid. They took my bombs when I showed up, and the blackpowder I had on me. And there's that guard on the door. How many guards between here and the cell below?"

"At least twelve. Scattered around, too. And that's not counting soldiers moving through the building, at least on the upper floors…"

Guts nodded. "And you're not sure that it's Caska. Didn't see her?"

"Nope."

"Then we wait. We wait, and we take the first chance we get."

SHING, went the whetstone along the blade, as Guts clenched his teeth, and his eye gleamed.

"And if it IS Caska down there, I'll cut our way out. And I won't stop cutting until nothing alive's left in our way…

---

Night was falling on Central, before Roy finally made his way back to his assigned Officer's quarters. In one hand, he was carrying two rolled-up posters. The other held his pocket watch. He studied it for a long minute, then snapped the case of the watch shut, tucking it away. Lt. Hawkeye strolled along beside him, keeping an eye on the shadows. She held the door open as Roy headed in.

"Nine o'clock…"

"And all's not well," rumbled a deep voice from the direction of the kitchen. Major Armstrong carried a pot away from the stove, resplendent in a "Kiss the Cook" apron and pair of oven mitts, over his dress uniform. "So, I felt that a belly full of beef would fortify us for the troubles ahead."

Hawkeye wrinkled her nose, and refrained from comment. _Oh god, they're pink. His oven mitts are pink and fuzzy…_

Roy sniffed, at the delicious odor of meat and vegetables. _Dinner!_ His stomach reminded him, and he sat down at the table. "You know, dinner wasn't quite what I had in mind when I asked you to show up. But frankly, that smells too good to pass up."

"I'll pass, thanks. Already eaten." Said Lt. Hawkeye. "But go ahead, please. It smells wonderful."

"I haven't. And I'm hungry!" Roy fished a spoon out of the nearby dishrack.

"I merely used the delicious pot roast preparation skills passed down through the Armstrong family for generations. Besides, I haven't eaten either." The major ladled out the savory stew, and the two of them ate silently from bowls for a few minutes. Finally, Colonel Mustang sighed, and put the two posters on the table. "Great. But we'd better get down to business."

Major Armstrong nodded, and watched the posters rolled out with silent eyes. He blinked at the two faces revealed.

"I don't know the man. The woman… You recall that picture that you sent through a few days ago?"

"Yes. Caska, according to our local mysterious dark wanderer."

"Caska… Very well. We brought her here, to the Palace, after rescuing her from the Laboratory. But shortly before you arrived, she was kidnapped. Someone slashed the gas lines, which cut out all the lights in the Palace. They used the cover of darkness to break in and grab her. A lieutenant in my charge was injured during this process, she's still recovering."

"Damn! So she's gone?"

"Apparently. Lt. Colonel Archer had some information about their likely destination, but by the time we arrived there was no sign of Caska. However…"

Armstrong tapped one of the wanted posters with a meaty finger. "We hauled the body of this woman out of the wreckage. It appeared there had been a serious struggle there… Traces of blood around, but no other bodies."

"Hm. Dead end, then. That leaves only one. What happened to the body?"

Armstrong shrugged, removing his apron and mitts. "Dropped off at a morgue, I presume. I was tasked with making sure the building was structurally sound, and looking for clues."

"Then all we're left with is the fat man here. Not much to go on."

"Sir, I might have something there, if this description is accurate." Mustang glanced over at Hawkeye and nodded as she hesitated, then continued.

"Several of the sentries around the palace grounds have reported seeing a fat, short man sniffing around at night. Every time they tried to apprehend him or shoot at him, he's run away."

"Why haven't we been briefed on this?" Asked Mustang.

"I couldn't say. The sentries had orders to keep things quiet. I only found out after I got one roaring drunk."

"Why lieutenant, I never knew you had such skills at espionage…" Murmured Mustang, grinning.

Hawkeye flushed, and looked away.

And froze.

"Major, Colonel…don't look. Don't turn your heads, and keep on talking normally. Act like nothing's wrong. And tell me what to do here, because frankly I have no clue."

"You see… the fat man on the poster? He's at the window. Pressing his nose to it. And his drool is eating holes in the glass."

---

Gluttony was not having a fun day.

Gluttony was LONELY. Lust was nowhere around!

He tried to eat Envy, just like she said… Even though Envy was SCARY. But that other one, Greed, had stopped him. They'd all fought, and then the soldiers had shown up, and they had to run. Because Lust said not to let the soldiers see them, or make sure that any who did got eaten. And there were too many to eat all at once.

So Gluttony was good, and Gluttony ran. But this time, there was no one to rub his head and tell him "Good Boy."

No Lust.

He cried for a while, then he decided to find her.

Her smell took a while to find, and it led to the big building that Pride lived in. But Pride was bad now, so he couldn't just walk in. He had to be careful.

And her scent was fading, after a day. He wasn't happy at all, and he kept running into soldiers when he tried to look further.

He was miserable. His last meal had been a stray cat yesterday, and it wasn't filling at all.

He had to find Lust. She would feed him! He was SO hungry…

He got better at sneaking, and tried sniffing around the houses near the edge of the big building.

And then, he smelled IT. The most WONDERFUL THING he could ever remember smelling. Of course, his memory wasn't that good, but this smelled DELICIOUS!

So he went in for a closer look. And he saw the soldiers, sitting around the stew. It was right there, but they weren't eating it any more. Their bowls were EMPTY. EMPTY! They had stew and they didn't even want it! This was not fair.

Then there was fire all around him, and the big one had torn his shirt off. "Surrender! And you'll not be harmed." He said. The blonde one was pointing a gun at him. The black-haired one had gloves on now, and was waving his hands, shaping the circle of flames surrounding Gluttony.

Gluttony sighed.

Then he SURGED forward, slamming through the wall and feeling his blubber sizzle a bit from the fire, and the fight started.

Gluttony was not having a fun day.

---

Ed put down the book, eyes wide as he leaned back in his seat. He and Al were the last patrons in the Central Library, and the librarian was shooting them nasty looks. She wanted to go home, and only Al's begging had kept them open this late.

"What is it, brother?"

Ed closed Dr. Marcoh's "Cookbook" with a shaking hand, his face wracked with sorrow. "Al." He whispered. "The Philosopher's stone…"

"Yes? Is it in there?"

"It's made from people. The equivalent exchange is human souls… Human pain, human lives. It's…"

Ed buried his face in his hands, the metal one gleaming in the lamplight.

"No…" Whispered Al.

Ed was silent for a long moment, and Al fidgeted.

"I… I guess I can stay like this. I'm okay, I'm used to it… But, your arm, and your leg… Well, we'll have to find another way, that's all. We'll grow you flesh and blood ones… I don't know…"

"No."

Ed straightened up, glaring at the book in front of him.

"No, I refuse to give up. We're going to get you your body back, Al. We're going to make a philosopher's stone."

"But…"

"No buts. And we'll find a way to do it without killing! There's GOT to be another way!"

Al nodded. "You're right!"

"We just haven't found it yet, is all!" Ed slid the book into his jacket, and stood.

"Brother, what are you doing?"

"Borrowing this book. Let's go."

"But… isn't that stealing? We don't have a card, I mean…"

"Did you see the dust on the cover? No one will miss it. We're the first to check it out in-"

There was a distant BOOM, and a flash of light from the north. Fiery light.

Ed dashed to the window. "That came from the Palace!"

"That can't be good!"

"You said it! Let's go…" And as the Librarian gaped at the distant fire, the Elric brothers ran towards the far-off flames…

---

Rumble.

It was only a slight vibration, but Lust felt it through her chains. With her arms and legs broken and held tightly into place, she didn't have the option to NOT feel the room shake.

Lust sighed. This was getting tiresome. And worse, she was getting to the point where she had no new pieces of information for Pride. She wasn't sure what would happen then, but with no Dante around to punish the homunculi, it would probably be lethal.

She twisted her lips. More likely, he'd simply leave the rib at the foot of her chains. The proximity would let the memories overwhelm her, until she couldn't tell the present from the past and the pain drove her mad.

Could it kill her?

Lust thought it possible. Very possible.

If only she could get her fingers free… She'd managed to shift the chains a little, with time. Unfortunately, every time Pride came down there he checked them over and readjusted them. His eye was too good, and she couldn't hide what she'd done.

All she could do was wait.

Thinking it over… She couldn't blame Pride. After all, had they been in the same situation, Lust thought she just might do the same thing.

And then, there was a yell from outside the door. A sudden THUD, as something hit the doorframe.

She stared.

The door shook again. "Too solid." Said a muffled, high-pitched voice.

"Yeah. Stand back."

"You're kidding, right? That metal's at least a foot thick. Even for you, that's tough."

"It'd be tough if I tried to break the door, yeah. That's why I'm doing THIS."

A horrendous noise, of metal on stone. The doorframe bulged on the left-hand side, and the door shook.

Lust watched. For a second, she had a flicker of memory of an emotion. Was it hope? It was a good memory…

Another screeching CRASH, and this time part of a massive metal blade protruded through the wall. With a grunt, the unseen attacker forced it down, crunching out stone as it went, carving through the area around the door…

Then silence. And a faint shadow against the revealed light, as a hand reached up, grabbed the door, and PULLED. Hinges popped, screws gave, and the door twisted aside and fell with a slam, as the lights in the corridor flickered.

He came in sword first, filling the light from the doorway with his bulky silhouette. But Lust's eyes were on the blade that he kept in front of him at all times, as he looked over the cell. And her.

It was far too big to be called a sword.

Too heavy, too thick, and far too rough, it was more like a heap of raw iron...

"Well, hello there. Nice entrance." She murmured.

And then she blinked, as a tiny green winged figure flew out from behind the big man.

_Am I losing my mind? Is this some sort of hallucination?_

"Damn. All that work and it's not her. Just another demon-thing."

_Demon-thing? _Lust wondered. "I'm sorry, were you expecting someone else?"

"Yeah." The man glared at her with his one good eye, and slid the sword onto his back. She looked a little more carefully, as her eyes adjusted to the light. _Auto-mail… Both an arm AND a leg. This man's either very lucky to be alive or very foolish…_

"Poo. She's not here. That means that she's not in the palace… Oh man, we better get moving before someone comes to check on the guards. Whatever that explosion was, it won't keep them busy forever…"

"Yeah. Come on." He did not look happy at all.

And the big man turned to leave, his tattered cloak swirling in front of her.

"Wait!" She yelled.

"Why should I?"

She watched, as thin drops of blood oozed their way down his neck, from a burned mark. A very familiar-looking burned mark…

"You can't leave me here. They're going to kill me soon."

"Good. One less monster in the world."

Her lips thinned. "I'm hardly a monster."

"This says otherwise." He tapped the mark, then started out into the corridor…

She decided to gamble.

"That woman you're looking for. She has brown skin, doesn't she?"

He stopped.

He turned around, and his eye was hard as it glared at her, hard and suspicious.

"Tell me what you know."

"She's got a mark on her breast, exactly the same as the one on your neck."

The flying green thing grinned. "That's her! You're the first one to mention that-" The man cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"Okay, so you've seen her. Where is she now?"

"I don't know."

"Then you're of no use to me." He turned. Was he bluffing? Lust couldn't tell. And she couldn't take the risk.

"But I do know the people who have her. The monsters that have her. They're like me, but worse. And believe me, her life means nothing to them."

He glared at her. Then he drew, and the sword licked out, once, twice, and again. She barely had time to blink before her chains were fragments flying through the air, and gravity caught up to her. She collapsed to the ground in a heap, and grinned as her arms and legs, held misshapen and broken for so long, began to snap once more into place and mend.

He watched the process with his eye, grunting as she stood. "Good. I'm not gonna carry you."

She smiled, and stretched. With a final crack, the last joints fell into place, and she could move her fingers again. Casually, she pointed three of them at the stranger's head.

It took only a second to make her decision.

_I still need to escape. Pointless to get free of the cell and be recaptured two floors up… He'll be a suitable shield between me and trouble. _

_I work better with backup, anyway. And until I can find Gluttony, he'll do. Besides, he might be able to answer a few questions about Pet, or Dante…_

She turned her pointing fingers into a wave.

"Lead the way."

She was shocked when he grabbed her arm, and threw her into the corridor. She nearly tripped over the prone bodies of the unconscious guards, and recovered, clicking on her heels as she trod on the fallen door.

"You think I trust you behind me? Don't be stupid. Get moving, we need to get out of here." The stranger snarled.

"We're leaving the palace?" Asked Puck. "Where are we going now?"

"We'll sort that out when we're clear. Now move, Lady."

Lust swallowed her retort, and fled up the stairway.

---

In his office, Pride put down his cup of tea, and studied the raging fight in the courtyard. Through the flames, he could see the squat form of Gluttony, as the fat Sin dashed back and forth between Mustang and Armstrong, with Hawkeye shooting his legs out from under him whenever he got too close to one of the alchemists. He scowled and reached over to the wall, picking off two sabers, and buckling them into his belt.

Sloth put down the phone, as he moved through the office, pulling on his harness as he went. "Sub-basement guardpost A isn't answering my calls."

"Deal with it. I've got Gluttony to bring down. If it's Lust, make sure that the two of them do NOT reunite."

Sloth nodded, and followed him out, picking up a bag as she did so.

The two of them left, following their respective paths.

And below, Lust ran on, not knowing what followed behind her…


	31. Unholy Alliances

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Ever hear the phrase: "Things fall apart, the center cannot hold?"**

**This is where it starts, ladies and gentlemen. This is where it all begins to fall apart for Amestris and its natives. It'll take some time in coming, but the seeds are sown here.**

**CENTRAL**

_He's charging again!_ Mustang was already in motion as he threw himself to the side, and brought a gloved hand around to trace out a superheated blast of fire.

The fat little man charged straight through the blast as his eyes bubbled in their sockets, grabbing blindly for Roy's arm. He almost touched his sleeve, and Roy staggered back, barely hanging on to his balance.

And then Armstrong punched the ground across the courtyard, and a rippling wave of stone spikes punched through the attacker's belly… To no avail. With a crackle of energy, the target's eyes regrew in their sockets as he pulled himself off the spikes with fat arms. A fusillade of bullets slowed him, holing him in the head, joints, and side, but with dogged determination the little freak was pulling himself loose… Hawkeye cursed, and her hands flashed to her side as she broke the gun, sending the bullets flying free. With steady, unshaking fingers she reloaded, spinning the cylinder before taking aim once again.

_We're barely slowing him down. _Mustang realized.

Roy called up another wave of flame, crisping the flesh on the little man's arms, as he fell back on the spikes and squirmed. Roy panted, face beading with sweat… The flames around the fat little form faltered, as he lost focus.

_How the hell is he even still alive? _

Every time they wounded him, there was a flash of energy across his skin, and he healed… It was nearly instantaneous, for most nonlethal injuries. And the lethal ones took only seconds... Armstrong had tried to trap him in a cage of stone, but he'd chewed his way out.

He didn't even look like he was getting tired. Was he? _Maybe not_… Thought Roy.

Roy WAS getting tired. And so were Hawkeye and Armstrong, he could tell. It wouldn't be long until one of them made a mistake, and that obscenely strong mouth killed or maimed someone.

_He's not human._ Roy finally admitted the truth. _I don't know what he is, but we aren't prepared for this fight. If we don't finish it, or drive him off, we're dead._

Then, for a second, his eyes caught a flash of light. He fanned the flames as he jogged backwards, melting the stone in front of the beast, slowing it down. Finally, he felt safe enough to spare a glance upward.

The Fuhrer was standing on the battlements, sword in hand. He waved at Roy, and made beckoning motions with the tip of his saber.

_He wants me to bring the fight over there!_ Roy realized. _But what can he do? Does he have some backup hidden on that wall?_

The last backup had fallen swiftly to the pudgy man's strength and insatiable teeth. Hawkeye had warned the rest of the soldiers off, and they were at the far edges of the courtyard, staying out of the way and fighting fires.

Then the beast was up again, and charging Hawkeye. _No!_ She leveled her gun, took a firm stance… And the hammer clicked on an empty chamber.

With speed he hadn't known he possessed, Roy charged across to her, and knocked her out of the way! As he did so, he felt a meaty hand grab his leg, and grimaced.

The Pudgy creature laughed. And Roy grabbed ahold of the wall, and glanced up, trying to pull himself away, even as the Fuhrer studied the scene below…

---

His was the most visible of marks.

It was right on his face. He hid it behind a mere scrap of cloth.

A stray edge, a branch, or even a thief's quick fingers… All of those could rip it away, baring it for the world to see.

But no one ever had. And no one ever would.

He was Pride, after all.

The bearer of the All-Seeing Eye.

A mere scrap of cloth was little barrier enough. His inhuman sight easily penetrated the eyepatch, and measured everything it saw. The information fed into his flawless brain, as possibilities were weighed, balanced, calculated, and planned. In the space of a quarter-second, he could see the implications of every course of action taken by his target, and the ramifications of every development.

He was pretty sure that this made him the closest thing to God on the planet. Of course, he often wondered what this made Dante, in the grand scheme of things.

But Dante was gone now, leaving the predictable chaos of conflict among the sins behind.

Pride hated chaos. It was messy, needlessly messy. No, he figured it was his job to restore things to order.

And so, he watched Gluttony with his eye, and SAW him.

And in one possibility, he saw Mustang, Armstrong, and Hawkeye fail to deliver a killing blow on Gluttony, and Gluttony escaping into the sewers…

In another, Gluttony devoured Mustang and Hawkeye before a grieved Armstrong mashed him flat between two massive pillars of stone, sacrificing himself for bait to lure Gluttony into his trap…

In still another, the surrounding soldiers decided to disobey orders and open fire, killing Mustang and 17 other soldiers as they shredded Gluttony with thousands of bullets, finally reducing him to pulped scraps of flesh, then burning those while their regenerative potential was finally weakened…

There were more, but their likelihood faded or the paths changed with every step, every burst of flame, every shot in the courtyard below.

Pride saw Mustang look up to him, and waved him closer. _I need a better look…_

Then Gluttony got his hands around Mustang's leg, and time slowed to a crawl…

Almost all the possibilities snapped away, leaving one behind. One that Pride didn't like at all.

He looked down into Mustang's eyes, and smiled. _No. No, You're far too useful, and too good a soldier for me to sacrifice you like this. _He chose his moment…

And Pride jumped.

Gluttony, his mouth wide, pulled Mustang toward him by his leg as bones creaked and started to give in his captive's legs…

Then the shadow fell across him, and he looked up, up to see a grinning face coming toward him in the flickering light of the fire.

But by then, it was too late.

The Fuhrer's feet landed solidly on Gluttony's shoulders.

And the Fuhrer's saber, gripped in both hands, drove straight through the top of his head, spearing him cleanly.

Gluttony let go of Mustang's leg, and started to bring his hands up slowly, slowly as he fell backwards…

And with unbelievable speed, Fuhrer Bradley flipped off of Gluttony's shoulders, pulled out two more sabers in midair, and jammed them into either side of his head, the blades protruding at crazy angles from their exit wounds.

Gluttony gasped, as Fuhrer Bradley landed, kneeling, with one hand holding the remaining saber out and pointing at him. Then his massive body hit the ground behind the Fuhrer, the saber hilts rattling by his skull as he shook from the impact.

"Colonel Mustang, are you all right?" Pride's eye told him he was, but he kept up the act.

"I'm… Fine. That was… A hell of a save…" Mustang was gasping for breath, pulling himself up and rubbing his leg.

Around them, the courtyard exploded into applause, the surrounding soldiers cheering their lungs out as Fuhrer Bradley slipped his last saber back into its sheath.

"Sir, look out! It heals itself…" Armstrong rumbled, as he stepped forward, fists ready. Beside him Hawkeye ran to Mustang's side, covering the fallen homunculi with a steady hand. She'd found a spare clip and reloaded, and Pride smiled inwardly at her efficiency. It did him good to see his soldiers acting professionally.

"Look again, Major. I think he's having some problems with that right now."

All eyes turned to Gluttony, as his head crackled with energy, and his body convulsed… Then lay back, as it spurted more blood.

As fast as he regenerated, the brain could not heal itself while the swords were in his head. The new tissue formed and tore, unable to do anything about the metal blocking its path. Gluttony was effectively paralyzed.

The Fuhrer strolled over and kicked one of Gluttony's questing, spasming hands away from the sword-hilts. "Colonel Mustang, kindly get some chains together. I think we'll have an easier time of taking him captive while he's in this state."

And with the crowd still cheering, a Squad was enlisted to take charge of the thrashing homunculus. Pride smiled to himself as he allowed them to escort him back into the palace.

_It was over the second I had you in my sight. No one can escape my eye, Gluttony. _

---

Heels clicked on stone, as Lust ran up the staircase. Not for the first time, the short homunculus wished that Dante had been a little less-impressed with high heels. Dante had made the homunculus their clothes, shaping them to be symbiotic, almost living organisms. If damaged, they healed as the homunculi healed. They expanded and contracted to keep up with their changing forms, and they preserved modesty in trying circumstances. This effect was what let her pierce her gloves with her claws, without ripping them to shreds each time… The claws were thin, and the gloves healed instantly.

In any case, if Lust stopped to discard the heels, her stockings would soon grow her a new pair.

_Such a pain…_

"I think there's a back door, up this way." The little green man chirped, as they ran.

"What are you supposed to be anyway?" She muttered, giving it a suspicious, sidelong look.

"I'm an elf!"

"Right…" She stopped at the sound of boots coming down the hall, and hugged herself into a nearby alcove. Next to her, the swordsman squeezed in, nearly hidden under his cloak. _How can someone that big move that quietly?_ But then the boots came closer, and she stifled the comment.

The elf flew out in the open, up the stairs as Lust cursed under her breath. "You little-"

She felt a hand grab her shoulder. "They can't see or hear him." The swordsman's breath was hot on her neck, and she shuddered.

"Don't touch me." She whispered. For some reason, this made him chuckle as he took his hand back.

She was seriously tempted to slide her claws through his heart, but by then the soldiers were moving past.

"…amned if I know. They're probably slacking off on duty again."

"Man, what a pain. That big fight going on out front, and we have to miss it…"

"Eh, we're better off out of it. Those two, the alchemy's flying pretty thick and heavy. That guy is probably toast even as we're speaking..."

The two passed by, and after a minute, Puck zoomed over to wave them out. "Coast's clear!" He yelled, cheerfully.

Lust winced, and resumed her climb. Behind her, she could hear the faint sounds of the swordsman following.

_What were those two talking about? Alchemists? Well, that IS interesting. Might have to get a look on the way out…_

A couple of more dodged guards, and two twisty corridors later, windows started to appear in the walls. They were almost out…

And the last doorway opened into a large, dark room. As soon as they'd crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut behind them. Guts whirled with a silent curse…

As Lust felt a familiar stir of echoes rise up in her mind. She winced, and staggered.

The lights came on, illuminating the pink-dressed form of Sloth, standing in front of the doorway out.

The brown-haired woman smiled, faintly.

"How did you know?" Lust grated, ignoring the pounding in her head.

"I just went to the easiest way out from the dungeon. And here you are. I didn't expect to see the stranger with you, though. He'll take your place in your old cell, once I finish you-"

A knife sprouted from her eye socket, and she dropped the bag. As Sloth reeled backward, Guts dropped his hand, yanked his crossbow out of its holster, and put a spray of bolts into her twitching form. Just as quickly, he slammed it back and moved forward, drawing the sword as he went…

"Hey, what's wrong?" The elf floated next to Lust's blurry eyes, and she pointed a hand in the direction of Sloth's body.

"The… bag… Get rid of it, quickly… It weakens me…"

Puck nodded. "On it!"

And as the sprite zoomed over to the door, Guts reached it as "Juliet Davis" started to rise to her feet, still shot full of bolts, and pulled the knife out of her eye.

"You've just signed your death warrant-"

Guts chopped her in half.

The two halves landed, and he watched carefully. They were still for a second, and then the lower half melted as the upper one hummed and jerked, energy flashing and recreating bone, then muscle, then-

Guts chopped her in half, lengthwise.

About this point, Puck lifted up the bag and looked inside. "Yech!" With a squeal of distaste, he hauled it over to the unlit fireplace, and threw a tiny spark into the wood. The fire blazed, the bag burned, and Lust sighed as she felt the memories lift from her mind.

She walked over to where Guts was continuing to chop up Sloth's regenerating body, his eye focused on the grisly task in front of him, and her dissolving parts from previous iterations melting into red sludge all around his feet.

"It won't work. We don't have the means to finish her off now." She explained. Puck zoomed back, dusting his hands off. "I can hear more soldiers coming!"

Guts nodded. "All right. Let's go."

And in a heartbeat, they were out into the night. Guts started toward a sewer grate, and Lust grabbed his arm.

"Don't touch me!"

Lust chuckled, as he threw her hand off. _Ah, now I understand._

For a second, the big man shook his head, almost ruefully. "Alright, we're even."

"This way. I know a passage." Lust moved to the wall, and pulled on a mossy brick. A door appeared, as sections slid aside, and she led the way down the secret tunnel.

Guts followed. "Hey, Puck. What was in the bag?"

"An old chunk of bone. Rib, I think. Hey, you know I didn't know what human insides looked like until I ran into you?"

Lust smiled. "Why am I not surprised? And your name's Puck? Interesting."

"Why did it hurt you?" The swordsman asked.

She weighed her options. From his tone of voice, silence didn't seem to be one of them. "It's… Special. It's one of the few things that hurts us. We don't heal, when we're near… Certain bones."

There was silence for a minute, as they ran. "Then why didn't it hurt that woman? Didn't stop her healing that I could see."

She cursed to herself. _Smarter then he looks._

"All right. It was one of my bones, from when I was human. Are you happy now?"

"Huh. So you died?"

"Precisely. Look, I'm not interested in that right now. What I am interested in…"

She stopped, and turned around. The Swordsman looked evenly back at her, and Puck hovered to his side, watching her with open curiosity.

Her violet eyes studied them for a long moment. "Why didn't you keep the bag? You could tell it weakened me. You could have used it to control me, I would have done anything to keep it away."

The big man shrugged. "We could've. Sure. But what's the point? As long as you're taking me to Caska, I don't need to hurt you. I'm not afraid of you, if that's what you're thinking."

Lust blinked. She reviewed the last few minutes, seen through her blurry eyes. The swordsman had laid into Sloth, keeping her off balance with ranged attacks until he got close enough to chop her into bits. He hadn't hesitated when Sloth started to regenerate, when most humans would have been staring in horror.

And there had been no more emotion in his face than a butcher faced with a slab of meat. He was just doing a job, no more and no less.

She blinked.

"You ARE human, aren't you?" She'd never seen anyone react the way that he did…

He glared back at her. "Yeah. And don't forget it."

"My my… What's your name?"

"Guts."

"I'm Puck! Who are you?"

"Call me Lust."

Puck giggled. "Wow, appropriate…"

"Great. Let's go."

Lust nodded, and turned around to lead the way.

Time for questions later…

She found the switch at the end of the tunnel, and threw it. The three of them emerged on the outside of the Palace walls…

…Looking straight into the surprised eyes of Edward and Alphonse Elric.

"What the heck?" Ed stepped back, as people came out of the wall.

"Guts! Puck! And… Who are you?" Al waved, as they looked around. The street was bare, except for the Elric brothers.

Lust stepped back, slightly. "We're in a bit of a hurry. You're Fullmetal, right?"

Ed blinked. For once, someone hadn't confused Al with him. "Yeah. Hey, what's going on in there?"

"Big fight out in the courtyard. Some guards said something about two alchemists against some guy. Probably over now." Guts rumbled.

"Crap! With all that fire, that irritating Colonel's gotta be involved in it. I'll catch holy hell if I don't check in with him…"

"You just want to see him get chewed out for burning things up, brother…"

"Yeah, well, I can dream, can't I? C'mon, Al."

Puck waved, and Guts nodded as the Elric brothers headed toward the main gate.

Lust watched them go, a speculative look in her violet eyes. "You know. They would make effective allies. They seemed pretty friendly to you, I'm sure they wouldn't have a problem rescuing P- Caska."

"No." Said Guts, as he motioned her down the street. The three of them resumed a quick walk, heading for sanctuary.

"Why not?" Asked Puck. "Might be fun to travel with them."

Guts shook his head. "They're better off out of this."

Lust looked back over her shoulder for a second.

"The opposition IS pretty fierce. You don't know who you're up against. Additional help might be sensible."

"It doesn't matter." Guts said, stalking down the abandoned streets of Central.

"You could easily die… I'm telling no lies, when I tell you that they could kill an army without a second thought."

And Guts grinned, a clenched-tooth grin that shone in the moonlight. For a second, Lust felt a flicker of memory, of emotion. Fear.

"I'm used to those odds…"

For the rest of the trip, Lust kept silent, and kept her eyes forward.

It was safer that way.

---

In a squalid camp at the edge of town, the scarred man watched the fires burn. He smiled at the distant flames, as they reflected from his red eyes.

He had only one arm, bound up in bandages.

They were looking for him in Eastern, so he knew he had to move on. By the time he staggered into the outskirts Central he was half-delirious from fever and pain. Running through a sewer with a major open wound had given him a hellacious infection. If he hadn't been lucky and found the refugee camp, he'd be dead.

As it was, it was two days before he felt good enough to move around.

The headman joined him on the bench, as they sat on the discarded piece of furniture, and watched the fires burn. "It is good." Said the headman. "But we might be blamed."

"I doubt it." Said Scar. "This has the marks of alchemy."

The headman hissed between his teeth, and made the sign against evil with his fingers. Contemplating the fires with a glare, he shook his head. "We would be blamed anyway. When we were at Liore, a demon came out from the desert, a demon bearing a great sword of iron on his back. Though he had only one leg and a false arm, he started to tear us apart… Many of us died to alchemy. And you know what? We were blamed! We were told we had provoked this demon in a man's shell, and had to go! The injusti- Ah!"

Scar had grabbed his shoulder with his good hand, and was squeezing. His eyes burned, as he looked into the headman's face, and the headman saw death there. Not his, perhaps. _Not mine,_ he prayed.

"Tell me about this demon." Scar growled, and the headman nodded up and down, nodded until his head felt like falling off. "Yes! Yes, of course! I will tell you all I know…"

Scar released his shoulder, and listened, feeling the fire of vengeance grow in his heart again.

And as he listened, his fingers fell to the stone around his neck, and he stroked it with an idle motion.

Under his fingers, the Behelit stirred…

And a world away, five monsters tilted their heads, and listened to a distant call…


	32. Den of Sin

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Now, back to a few more of our favorite sins…**

**DUBLITH**

The bar was called the Devil's Den. It was in a bad part of town, and full of bad people. Deals went on at the Devil's Den, deals involving drugs, sex, and services of the most illegal nature. Cash was God here, and all could be forgiven for enough of it.

Even the worst of sins…

One of those sins had his feet propped up on a comfy couch, at the minute. Two prostitutes curled up next to him, rubbing his shoulders and lounging against his leather jacket.

He was Greed, and if money was god here, then he was at least a king. He had the smile of a shark, and why shouldn't he smile? After all, life was _good_.

A door shut behind him, and he heard the sound of three pairs of footsteps. Greed sighed and fished his glasses out of his pocket, flipping them open and using the reflections in the lenses to check behind him. Sure enough, a pinch-faced green-haired youth stood angrily between two of his employees.

"Take five, babes." The prostitutes giggled, and helped themselves to a bowl of nearby opium pipes before heading out. Greed stood and stretched, turning around to look as he slid his glasses onto his face.

"What's up, beansprout?"

"How long are you going to waste time on that couch?"

"As long as the women, wine, and drugs hold out."

"We're getting nothing done!"

Greed laughed. "Hey, I've been out of touch for a hundred-fifty years or so. Gotta catch up on my hedonism. And besides, isn't this what our little alliance is for? Each of us gets to do what we want, with no one saying different?"

Greed smirked, as Envy glowered, and spat back. "Yes, but it'll only stay that way as long as we stay sharp! And if we don't get a leg up on the other two, Pride and Sloth will be able to pick us off at their leisure. They've got a COUNTRY behind them, in case you hadn't noticed…"

Greed sat back on the couch, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Tamping them against his palm, he plucked one and lit it, taking drags of smoke.

"Pfft. Big deal. Military makes noise, and is pretty slow when you get down to it. We'll know they're coming miles away. I've got plenty more boltholes like this one, set up with the money I got before I was sealed. Some survived, some didn't, but if they come for us we can get back to cover pretty easy. Smoke?"

Envy snorted. "Please. Why do you bother, anyway? It's not like it does anything for you."

Greed exhaled smoke through his nose, and grinned. "I do it because I can, kiddo. That's all the reason I need."

Envy shrugged, and sat down on the far end of the couch. "They WILL come for us. We know too much for them to let us be. I don't care how many safehouses you've got, if we don't get active we're screwed. Plain and simple."

Greed pondered Envy for a long minute, then nodded. "All right. You might have a point. So, how do we get active?"

"That woman."

"Ah cripes, not that again. Roa, Martel, has he been pestering her?"

The two figures that had followed Envy into the room glanced at each other, and nodded. One was a large, burly silver-haired man in an old military greatcoat. The other was a slender young blonde woman in a tanktop, and camo pants. They were Roa and Martel, respectively, and they were no longer human.

"Yeah." Martel said, in her normal, breathy voice. "He tried to pose as Dolcetto, and get into her room. Didn't know Dolcetto was in there already, bringing her supper. That, and she started screaming up a ruckus the second he got in the door."

Greed sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. Taking one last drag on the cigarette, he flicked it at Envy. "Would you lay off? You're acting like a creepy stalker. Keep that up, you'll never get any chicks."

Envy practically shook with rage. "If you hadn't BARRED me from her room, we would've had the truth by now! She KNOWS something, I can tell!"

"Right. Which is why you broke her arm on the trip down here, when she wouldn't talk the first time."

"A few fingers, that's all it would take! I'm sure of it, she's faking…"

Greed shook his head, and stood. "I don't think so. After all this? Nah, it's no act."

"Well, then, what use do we have of her? If she honestly knows nothing, why not let me rip out a few fingers to make sure? Why not give her opium, and rent her out as a drugged prostitute, for that matter? Right now she's a babbling, stupid, useless human LUMP. We might as well get some use from her!"

Martel shifted, her lips compressed. Roa said nothing, but the heavy furrows in his brow spoke volumes.

Greed clicked his tongue.

"Tch, no style at all. She's pretty much a kid, in this state. And messin' with kids? Fuckin' lame. I shouldn't have to tell you that."

Envy smirked, but his teeth were grinding together under the smile. "So what, we take care of her the rest of her life? That's pretty lame in itself. Has all that time sealed away in the Laboratory made you soft, Greed?"

Greed's smile disappeared. He raised a hand toward Gluttony, that crackled as his skin hardened, and went to a sheer black substance.

"Try me."

Envy's eyes shifted left, to where Roa was slowly drawing his hammer off his back, and Martel was inching a long arm toward the knife in her boot.

Envy shrugged, and crossed his arms. "No, I don't think so. But if you're not trying to be a knight in shining armor, why bother? What do you get out of this?"

"Wise move." Greed snapped his fingers, and his hand was once again skin. "It's simple economics. For some reason we don't know, she has value. Until we know why she has value, doing something to her might damage that value. So, we don't break any more of her limbs, we don't cut off her fingers, and since I know your temper, I don't let YOU in the same room as her."

"Got it? She's MINE."

"And I look after my own."

The crisis defused, Roa and Martel took the opportunity to slip out of the room. Though they were careful to conceal it, they both had small smiles on their faces.

Envy's eyes were narrow, as he twirled an opium pipe between his fingers, finally snapping the thing in two. Greed's lips twitched, but he said nothing, watching the androgynous youth carefully.

"You know." Envy said, considering as his fingers found the ground opium and started tearing the tiny ball to shreds. "We might have another option here."

Greed looked sideways at him. "Yeah?"

"Instead of damaging her to find out the truth, we could increase her value. Fix her, get back her sanity if she had any to start with. More importantly, we could restore her memories. Then she'll tell us what we need to know."

Greed chuckled. "Neat trick. In your spare time, you want to cure cancer and end world hunger?"

"I'm serious. And the solution's nothing I can do. After all, I can't do alchemy."

Greed leaned back in the couch.

"I'm starting to see where this is going… You think it might work?"

"I don't see why not. Memories are determined by brain chemistry, and folds in the brain. They transfer across nicely, even if the soul doesn't. I know I have memories, and you must too…"

Greed's eyebrows raised, as he considered. His lips peeled back, and his shark's grin surfaced, once more.

"Let me make sure we're on the same page here, E."

"Envy."

"Yeah, but anyway... What you're suggesting, is that we make a homunculus of little Miss Scatterbrain?"

"Precisely."

"We'd need an alchemist for that." Mused Greed.

"We already have one. Tucker."

"Yeah, but to make a homunculus, you have to sacrifice. Don't know if he'd be up for that."

"What does it matter what he wants?"

"He's working for me, it matters to ME."

"All right, all right. If he refuses, we'll just find another one to do it. Humans are gullible, there's never a shortage of stupidity out there."

"Well, gotta agree with that one. Oh, and one more thing…"

"What now?"

"If we do this, then we wait 'till her arm's healed."

"What? Why?"

"Because, it might be permanently broken if we convert her over like this."

"Who cares?"

"Idiot. Think about it. Not only will she have the information we need, she can also help us out…"

"…Against Pride and Sloth. Not bad, not bad."

"Besides, she's kinda cute. Once she gets her brains back, I want her on my good side."

"You're a letch, you know that?"

"Hey, you're the one who wanted to pimp her out to pay her keep…"

"Heh, true. Alright, so we're agreed?" Envy grinned, and held out his hand.

"Agreed. Won't be doing her any favors… But on the upside, she's got little enough to lose right now."

"Let's do this."

They shook.

And in the Devil's Den, life went on and the drinks flowed freely throughout the night…


	33. One Hot Night

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Also, this one gets a little spicy, so do bear in mind the M rating.**

**SOUTHEAST OF CENTRAL**

The wilds of Amestris were very familiar. Guts was getting to know them intimately, as going into towns was a risk all of its own.

"They'll telegraph our descriptions to every military and constabulary post in the country, if they haven't already." The shapely monster walking next to him explained.

"Telegraph?" Puck asked.

"It's… Complicated. There's a way of talking back and forth across long distances. Through those wires, actually." Lust indicated the mysterious poles that seemed to follow the train tracks, and the cables that ran between them.

Guts grunted, not slowing down. The forest was thin around here, and they would have trouble hiding if a train came through. While the tracks were handy for keeping them going in the right direction, they presented their own risks. Either way, he wanted to get to the hills in the distance before they called it a night.

"Wow… Sorta like magic, huh? We've got seers back at home, at least we had them, a lot of them got burned for witches. And there's elf magic, but that's a whole 'nother thing…"

"Puck." Guts warned.

Lust shrugged, sending a distracting motion through her ample chest. Guts slid his eyes back, doing his best to keep his mind on business. _Been too damn long. Even the monsters are looking good now…_

There was a hint of a smirk in her voice as she replied. "It's all right. I have no plans to betray you, and I would love to hear about your home, wherever it is."

Guts shook his head. "Nope."

"Why not?"

"The other monster was interested in it, too. That's all."

Lust's lips pressed into a thin line. "Our motivations are hardly similar. Not anymore, at least."

"We'll see." Guts said.

"Train!" Puck yelled, and the discussion was momentarily forgotten as they found a hiding spot.

---

That night, around a small, smokeless fire, Guts and Puck ate their meager fare. One of his bolts had brought down a wild bird that Lust called a "Turkey", and they were enjoying the sudden feast.

They'd offered Lust a share, as usual, and as usual she abstained. She seemed content to merely watch the meat disappear down their gullets, garnished with some herbs that Puck had found earlier.

She watched as the little sprite devoured a full drumstick, distorting his body to fit it in his suddenly-gaping maw, and pulled the drumstick free as a clean stick of bone. Her lips twitched.

"Whaff fo fummby?" Puck demanded.

"I know someone who eats like you do. That's all."

Her violet eyes shifted, watching the fire smolder away. "He's probably lost right now. If the others haven't killed him yet, that is."

"He a monster too?" Lust glared up at Guts, who was watching her steadily from across the fire.

"As it happens, yes."

There was no more conversation for a little while, as the three were left to their thoughts.

Afterwards, Guts nodded to Puck, then rolled back against one of the nearby trees. Pulling his cloak around himself, and with his sword by his hand, he closed his eye and relaxed into sleep.

They'd been doing this each night. Guts would sleep first, then Puck would wake him up when the night was half over. They'd take turns watching Lust. For her part, Lust faked sleep, most of the time. But no matter how much she protested, they maintained the vigil of watching her.

_What do they think I'm going to do? We have the same goal. If I really wanted to kill them, I'd have done it long before now._

But each night was the same. She decided to break the mold a bit, and talk to Puck.

"He sleeps like a soldier, doesn't waste any time in nodding off."

"Hey, he WAS a soldier."

She nodded. "Not an Amestris soldier, though. I've known enough of those…"

Puck fell silent, watching her and flitting his wings.

She let her eyes stray back to the fire, poking it with a stick.

"You don't really sleep, do you?" Puck asked.

"What?" She put the stick down, looking back to the green sprite with a bland expression.

"I can tell. Stick around humans long enough, and you learn the signs. Yours are off, just a bit."

She frowned. "And how many _monsters_ have you seen asleep?"

"None. I think most of them don't sleep, like you. But I wouldn't call you a monster."

"Why not? Your master does."

"Pft. He's not my master. And I don't think you're really a monster."

"Why do you say that?" The conversation had veered in an unexpected direction, and Lust fought to keep her face blank.

"When you talked about your friend, the one who ate like I do, there was something in your eyes. You were worried about him."

"Nonsense."

"It was there."

"I can't be worried about him." She felt her cheeks twitch, and looked away. "You need a soul for that. For real emotions."

"So what's wrong with yours?"

"I- We don't have one. It's not something that transfers over."

"Are you sure about that?"

She looked down at him, and Puck shivered at the distance in her eyes. "Yes. I can feel its absence, every second of my unnatural life. That's why I have no problem when he calls me a monster. It's simply the truth."

Puck was silent for a few long minutes. Figuring the conversation was over, Lust found a comfortable patch of ground, and sprawled across it, watching Guts and Puck with one elbow supporting her head.

Puck stirred again. "No, you don't sleep. That means that you don't dream either, do you?"

Lust sighed, tired of pretending. "No. I don't."

"That's… sad. So very sad." Puck whispered.

Lust didn't reply. And in about an hour, Puck's snores filled the night, while Guts slept silently, twitching at the occasional bad dream.

In three more hours she'd wake Puck, and pretend to sleep again, just like she always did. He'd wake Guts in turn, and the swordsman would watch her with his single eye. In the morning she'd get up, as she always did, and the three would continue on their way.

That was how it had been for the last week. And she didn't expect this to change anytime soon.

This was why, when the fog rolled in and the ghostly figures spilled out from it, Lust was completely unprepared.

---

Guts woke to the wet rasp of a tongue on his face, and pain in his neck. Snapping his eye open, he saw a mouth descending again, filling his field of vision…

"NO!"

His hand cracked into her jaw with a snapping sound, as her neck broke, and she was sent staggering back, sprawling across the ground. With a wide eye he watched her rise, her head tilting back and crackling as her bones fixed themselves… And her wide, staring eyes fixed on his face, as she crawled forward again.

_Something's wrong here…_ Then the burning on his neck registered, and he cursed as he saw the mist around the camp, and the swirling forms within it.

_I got careless!_

Then she was in his face again, and he reached for his bandolier… Only to find it gone. "Why fight…?" She whispered, her voice low and throaty. "We have skin again, we feel again… Lie with me… Love me…"

He drew back his hand, aimed for her nose…

And choked in pain, as one of her fingers elongated and skewered his wrist! Keeping one of her hands tilted, she drew the other one down his chest, and a tracery of pain followed her fingers… He looked down to see blood, and his shirt peeling aside as she lightly cut into his skin. And then, her hand was at his groin, groping and caressing, the fingers no longer sharp but soft, so soft as they teased, and pulled…

He gritted his teeth, as he felt himself stiffen. His body was honest… And he felt the first whispers, as the ghosts touched him, and began to seep in…

"No!"

Her hand gripped and SQUEEZED, and he restrained a yell, as he got his metal arm up under her chin. She looked at him blankly, as he reached over with his teeth, ignored the tearing feeling in his wrist, and took ahold of the rope around his forearm.

Tug.

BOOM!

When the smoke cleared, the ghosts had backed off from him, and they poured from her twitching, bloodied remains like water from a fountain. At least twenty surged out from her like maggots from a corpse… Small wonder, since the only thing where her neck and head used to be was a few chunks of bloody gristle. He shook his hand as her sharp, spear-like finger retracted. No serious damage to his wrist…

Guts looked over, to find Puck twitching under the weight of a tiny nightmare creature. A wave of his hand dispelled it, and the elf sat bolt upright with a scream… Which faded to a sigh, as he looked around at the ghosts, crowding and whispering.

"Ah nuts! They're back…"

"Back, and stronger than any others I've seen around here."

"What happened to… gah! Her head's gone! And your wrist?"

"They possessed her. Didn't you see it happen?"

"Well, uh, I… Um, I think she's healing."

"Good." Guts bound his wrist as the ghosts surged forward, and drew his sword from the ground. With grim resolution, he struck again and again, sending the shrieking form of the spirits into harmless vapor as they died a new death.

"Mhm." Lust shook her head as she sat up, and looked at the ghosts around her, with an annoyed glance.

"I… Couldn't stop. Believe me, I didn't intend to…" She started.

"Don't waste breath. Fight them!"

She frowned. _Well, he's already seen my main ability, thanks to these… whatever they are. Nothing to lose now._

"All right. But after this-"

"Look out!" Puck yelled. A swarm of spirits leaped into Lust, as she fell back a few steps… Her eyes went wide, and her mouth twisted into a broad smile.

Guts paused in his hacking, to stare. _They swarmed her pretty easy, these weak spirits. Even with strong ghosts, it takes at least five seconds to possess someone… Is this her monster's weakness?_

And then he was spinning aside, as her fingers tore past him, punching holes in the tree behind him.

"Love me…" She hissed, as she turned a hand inward, slitting down the front of her dress with a swift motion. His eye twisted down as her bare, heaving breasts fell from their now sliced-open bodice, tipped with dark, hard nipples in the moonlight. For too long he watched them jiggle, as she cupped her breasts and walked toward him with a swaying, sultry walk, her bare flesh gleaming.

"These are for you… warm them…"

He was ready, and dodged to the side as her fingers flashed out again. And before she could retract them, he'd sliced her arms off. She fell back, the ghosts screaming out of her once again…

"Puck, keep them off her. This is gonna take all night."

And that command issued, he turned back to the fight.

---

Dawn broke, and the spirits fled.

Guts leaned his sword against a tree, and let himself slump against the base of it, exhausted. Puck crawled onto a branch, and watched the sun rise, relaxing in the warmth.

Lust sat with her legs against the chest of her shredded dress in the center of the clearing, arms wrapped around her knees. She was NOT happy.

"I couldn't do a thing to stop them from-"

"I know." Said Guts.

"It was like I was watching from behind a stranger's eyes. The things they made me do, and I couldn't-"

"Yeah." Said Guts.

"I couldn't… They were going to make me rape you, and flay the skin from your bones as they possessed you, just so they could remember how to feel pain-"

"It's done with, for now." Guts shrugged.

"Why could they control me like that? They didn't affect you, even though they grabbed you a few times."

Puck shrugged. "Maybe there's some weight to that not-having-a-soul thing you said. They're nothing but souls, so I guess they could jump right in…"

"What were they?"

"Ghosts. Spirits." Puck chimed in, propping his head up on his hands. "When the people of the land have suffered, they walk and come for Guts. It's his br-"

"Puck." Warned Guts. The tiny elf shut up.

Guts shifted his eye back. Lust had stiffened, her eyes staring into the trees. "Suffering…" She mused. "We're not far from there." Lust finally muttered.

"From where?" Guts asked, leaning back and bandaging his wrist again.

"I thought some of them looked familiar. I know how they died, and I was there to see some of it. This is what happens to them after they die in pain?" Though she didn't know it, her face was a study of sorrow.

Guts kept his own face straight, as he watched her with calm intensity. "Yeah."

Her mind made up, Lust rose to her feet. "Well, then. Come on." A breast flopped free, and she tucked it back in absent-mindedly. Guts tried not to notice.

"Where to?"

"There's a village near here. And more ghosts will be created there, if we pass on by. It's about time for the disease to flare up again."

"Disease?"

"No time. Come on, if you're coming."

"I'm not letting you out of my sight, until we find Caska."

"I know."

And the three of them disappeared into the thin woods, heading for a tiny village to the south…


	34. Author's note

**Author's Note**

---

Yikes, it's been a few weeks... Time flies. Add to the fact that fanfiction hasn't been letting me post in my usual format lately, and the problem's been multiplied…

I apologize for the delay. Due to a combination of my work getting a little more hectic, and my muse taking a break, I have not been able to update in a while. It also looks like this combination is not going to stabilize anytime soon...

100 reviews, though. Wow... That's a lot of reading, and a heck of a big ego-boost :D

I'll continue the story once I get a little breathing room. Muse or no, I have an idea of where to go. Bear with me, ladies and gents, and though it will take time, the show WILL go on


	35. Lujon's Lament

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I wanted to accomplish more in this chapter, but after a few weeks of no updates, I feel that it'll have to stand on its own. Enjoy, and thanks for your patience... :)**

**SOUTHEAST OF CENTRAL, A SMALL VILLAGE**

"It's happening again."

He put down his glasses, alone in the creaking old house.

"And I can't stop it."

The ring on his finger glistened in the morning's light, and he blinked with weary eyes. Had the night gone so quickly? He couldn't remember if he had gotten any sleep.

A knock. Two. He crossed to the window and looked down, not surprised at all.

"Come in, Lydia."

She was carrying a covered basket. And sure enough, when she opened the door the smell of fresh bread wafted to his nose. Sweet bread… My favorite.

Right now, after that last frustrating night, it sounded about as appealing as a mouthful of ashes.

He heard her footsteps on the stairs, and closed the book before him. She came into the study, as he put it away on shelves brimming with other books, each one old, each one precious. _Even the ones full of lies_… He thought.

"You haven't eaten." Her voice almost accused him. He didn't look around.

"How can I eat?" It was a whisper in the darkened room.

"You have to! We need you, Lujon! I need…"

He didn't turn around.

With a sigh, she put down the basket, and nervously tucked the blanket back in around its contents. "Look. A few bites, alright? I'll leave you alone after that. We all know you're working hard on this. We all know you'll fix it again."

He turned around then, and tried to ignore the bandages peeking out from under her blouse.

The bandages that hid stone.

---

"It's called fossilitis." Lust explained.

Guts grunted. "The disease, you mean?"

"Yes. It's rare, very rare. Caused by contaminated water."

"It's a plague."

"Not exactly. It spreads by way of a poison. And if it goes too long untreated by alchemical means…"

---

"…it will be fatal. Junner, you have to let me look at her."

The old man shook his head, his face long. "She said nah. She said nah, sorry Lujon. I canna go against her on this…"

"Damn it, Junner! I might… I CAN save her!"

"It's her las' wish, Lujon. She didna want anyone seein' her"

Junner's face was a mask of sorrow, but Lujon was already in motion. Before the old man could blink, Lujon was past him, shouldering him aside as he bolted through the door to the old house!

Junner caught his balance, wheezing. "No!" With a speed his old legs hadn't had in a while, he hobbled after the spectacled young man.

The bedroom was lit by candles, even in mid-morning, and the curtains were closed. In the dark, an old woman lay hidden under blankets, a wet towel soaking her head.

Her flesh was warped, ridged. It had rough patterns all along it, that were raised and thick, like old tree bark. The patterns were on more than her skin, however. Lujon knew that if he cut into her skin, he'd find that the flesh had been affected all the way down to the bone.

Soon enough, the bark-like matter would harden into a consistency of hard wood. Her flesh would follow suit, and the muscles that helped her breathe would cease to move. She would suffocate to death in a stony shell…

"Lu…jon? B-boy, is that…?"

Behind him, the old man wheezed as he tottered upstairs, clutching the door for support. "Liz, I'm sorry, I couldn't stop him."

"It's all right, Jonas. Come… come over into the light, boy. Let me see your face."

He kept his face from showing anything, as he moved into the candlelight and took her hand. This close to her, he could see the warped, tumorous block of flesh that obscured one of her eyes.

The other one showed pain, plain and simple. Fossilitis was not a gentle killer.

He shook his head. "Jonas. Is the bed attached to the wall?"

"What?"

"The bed. Can I move it?"

"I… I suppose so…"

After a few minutes of wood scraping across the floor, he'd pulled the bed a few feet away. Taking out his chalk, he traced the circle, altering it slightly to accommodate the inert mass of the bed in the center.

Finally, it was done.

Focusing his mind, he put his hands on the circle, and began his chant. Though he knew it wasn't a necessary part of the transmutation, it helped him concentrate.

The stone on his ring flared, with a crimson glow…

---

"Alchemy can do that? Wow!" Puck said, keeping pace with the two of them as they jogged.

"Yes. It's possible, but it's not easy. Alchemy dealing with living creatures is very difficult to work. Alchemy that affects diseases is even more difficult, the raw power required to affect that many cells… Well. It's not something a normal alchemist could do without sapping himself into unconsciousness."

"A plague never strikes only one person." Guts mused, his eye watching the path ahead. "Alchemists are pretty rare, from what I've seen."

"You're not wrong." Lust said.

"So what's the use? They'd cure one person at a time, and the ones they didn't cure would still die. And more people would catch it, during that time. Seems pretty useless."

Lust nodded. "It would be, but there's a way around it. It's called the Philosopher's Stone."

"Ah! That thing Ed and Al were looking for!" Puck piped up. Guts frowned, but Lust was already speaking.

"With the stone, an alchemist can draw upon it, and upon its reserves of-"

---

"Power." Lujon whispered.

That was what Lujon felt, as he held his hands to the array. That was what surged from the ring, in an almost electric current, humming faintly as it went. It surged over the old woman's form, blending with the basic reaction of the array, augmenting it.

The stony flesh encasing the woman smoothed, and in places, crumbled. Bit by bit it flaked away, revealing wrinkled but healthy skin.

It was power, that he was calling down. And though he would only use his alchemy for the common good, though he only ever used it to heal the fallen, he still couldn't deny the thrill that using the stone gave him.

The power was one reason, yes. But there was another reason that he felt a thrill whenever he used the stone.

It was HER gift. And every time he used alchemy, her face drifted through his mind, once again…

He snapped his mind back to business, as the array flickered to a halt. Drawing a shuddering breath, the old woman coughed.

"Lizzy!" Jonas shouldered Lujon aside, and embraced her. She hugged him back, weak but healthy. For now.

"Thirsty…" She whispered, voice cracked.

Lujon nodded. "It's all right. She's safe, for now, and recovered victims are always thirsty. She needs water and rest right now."

"Thank, you, Lujon. It was nearly too late…" Jonas said, eyes shut as he hugged his wife.

Lujon said nothing, merely collecting his coat, and heading to the door.

"It's not over yet…" He whispered.

---

"…Even with alchemy, fossilitis will return if the victim drinks more tainted water. It's not a regular disease, where the body gets stronger for surviving it."

"And their water is tainted?" Puck asked. They were at the hills overlooking a small village, with the noonday sun beating down upon them.

"Yes." Lust pressed her lips together.

"Then why haven't they moved?" Asked Guts, moving up to stand beside her, staring at her with a calm, bland expression. "Don't they know their water's bad?"

Lust's eyes flicked away. _How did he guess?_

"They don't know their water's bad."

"Why's that? Seems pretty obvious. First place you check is the well, if everyone in town is sick." Puck asked, wings keeping a casual pace in the summer breeze.

"They don't know the cause. Fossilitis doesn't occur in nature." Lust said, finally looking back. His stare is relentless…

"And they don't know the water's bad, because we did a good job of hiding the poison."

Guts nodded, and looked down at the town. Puck gaped, his mouth somehow bigger than his head.

"What… But… You poisoned them?"

"Myself and another. It was part of Dante's… well, let's just say, it was necessary for our previous plans."

"Necessary." Guts said, looking down at the village.

"Yes." Said Lust, crossing her arms. The wind whipped her hair for a minute, and sent Guts' cloak puffing out for a bit. Puck landed on his shoulder, looking at Lust with a hurt expression.

"So. Why the change of heart now?" Guts asked.

"It's no change of heart. It's simply not required anymore. That, and I never want to be possessed by angry ghosts again. If I end the suffering here, then this area won't be so bad… That's how you said it works, correct?"

Guts was looking down at the village now, lips peeled back in a mirthless grin.

"Yep. That's how it works."

Puck started to say something, then looked away.

And the three of them descended into the tiny village…


	36. Coldhearted Cure

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. This one's late as well… More spoilers within, though things take a slightly different course here.**

**SOUTHEAST OF CENTRAL, A SMALL VILLAGE**

Lujon stopped and stared.

The bucket that he was hauling clattered to the ground, splashing water over his shoes. He barely noticed.

_She was back!_

"Lust!" He yelled, rushing to her as she came out of the edge of the forest. Her face smoothed over into that faintly nervous expression that he remembered so well, and he wrapped his arms around her, smelling that faint scent of lilacs and copper that followed her, as always.

_Flowers and blood…_ Something whispered in the back of his mind, but the thought was gone before he could wonder at it.

She'd stiffened in his arms, but hadn't hugged him back. "Hello Lujon," she murmured in his ear. Reluctantly, he let her go… And stared straight into a tiny green face, inches from his eyes. The face was grinning.

"AAAaaah!" He yelled, backing up quickly.

"WAAAAAHHHH!" The face yelled back, as the tiny figure it belonged to leaped from Lust's shoulder and sped away on gossamer wings…

…Sped away to hide behind a tall, brawny man in black, just now striding out of the forest.

Lujon bllinked, looking back and forth from Lust, to the man in black, to the small head peeking over the man's shoulder.

"Oh… You must be an elf…" He said, taking off his spectacles and rubbing them.

Lust, and the two strangers stopped. "You know about elves?" The little green sprite piped up.

"From old legends… Old books. I read through a lot of old books when I was searching for alchemical healing techniques. Not all the books were accurate, some were pretty far-fetched." He looked at Lust. "It's funny, though. Remember that book you tore up because it was full of errors? That's the one that taught me about elves..."

Lust looked back evenly, and shrugged. The motion made her bosom move in a way that stole Lujon's breath, and he fought to keep his eyes on her face. "Well." She said. "I suppose that I've learned more than I knew back then. If you live long enough, it's surprising what you see."

He blinked, and nodded. _So modest…_

"Well. You've probably been on the road a long time to get here. Why don't you come inside? I'll see about getting you some lunch."

And with that, he took Lust's unresisting arm, and led her toward his house. Behind him, Guts and Puck looked at each other, and shrugged.

"Just don't drink the water." Puck whispered.

"Huh." Guts said, eye moving back to follow Lujon, as he escorted Lust down the street.

Neither of them saw the brown-haired girl staring out of the window above, with a look of abject horror on her face…

-

Lust hadn't touched her crumpets. Or her sandwich, or any other part of her lunch. She hadn't taken a drink of the juice that he'd poured her. In fact, she was listening to Lujon natter on with a faintly distracted look on her perfect face.

Lust was doing her best not to drown in memories.

_It wasn't him._ She told herself, over and over again. But her mind would not listen…

Even if it wasn't him, the build was too similar… The face was too alike… And the glasses were the crowning touch. The voice was close enough, and his attitude… He stirred memories in her with his mere presence. Memories from the time before, when she had been someone else. Someone with a soul.

She closed her eyes and grimaced.

_If Pride hadn't used that rib bone against me a week ago, I wouldn't be able to withstand these memories. I wouldn't be able to make sense of them. As it is, it still hurts… But not so much, compared to the torture he put me through._

She cracked open her eyes, as his stream of small talk stopped.

"…what's wrong? Lust?" He hurried back from the cupboard that he was pulling dishes from, and moved back to the table with a worried expression on his face. A somewhat familiar expression…

_No!_ She thought. _This is NOT him!_

Beside her, Guts paused with a mouthful of bread to watch the byplay with a bemused look on his face. Thoughtfully, he chewed and swallowed. Across from him, Puck paused from dunking his head in his overlarge cup of tea, to stare.

Anxious, concerned, Lujon stretched out a hand towards her bare shoulder. "Are… you alright?"

_No!_ She did NOT want to let him touch her. She forced a subtle smile onto her face, and brushed his hand aside with one gloved wrist. Keeping skin from skin helped, and no more invading memories were forthcoming.

_I need to find a way to keep this stupid man off of me._

"I'm fine. Just a long day on the road." She lied. Lujon nodded, barely satisfied. "Ah, well…" He slapped his forehead, just remembering something.

"I've been completely remiss. Who are your friends?"

"Ah, well. This is Puck." She gestured, and the elf grinned, mulberry tea dripping from his head.

And then, a wonderful, awful idea burst full force into her mind, and she fought to keep her smile from expanding into a wicked grin. It was too good NOT to use.

"And this is Guts."

"My husband."

-

Guts froze, the last crumpet halfway to his mouth. Lujon didn't notice, the slim, spectacled man was frozen staring at Lust for a long moment. Puck, on the other hand, had fallen into his tea cup in shock and was churning up one hell of a mess, trying to extricate his coughing, spluttering self.

Guts put the crumpet into his mouth and rearranged his face as best he could. He chewed slowly, thinking things over while Lujon's gaze swung from Lust to him. For a split-second, he saw horror and jealousy mixed in equal parts… Then Lujon smoothed his own face out. He still swallowed hard, before he spoke.

"Oh. Ah, congratulations. I didn't know…" He extended a trembling hand.

Guts shook it, trying not to squeeze too hard. "Smfll'rght." He muttered, through the crumpet.

His eye narrowed as he swallowed. _What game is she playing? For now, I can play along._

"So… how long have you been… married?" Lujon glanced at him, sizing him up for the first time. If the wrinkled nose was any sign, he didn't like what he was seeing.

Guts didn't care. "Couple years," he grunted.

"Oh. She didn't mention you when she arrived here, last year…" Lujon's eyes were narrowing slightly…

"Yeah, that was when I was first dealing with this." Guts pushed back from the table, and put his leg up. Rolling up his trouser cuff, he showed the automail that was his right leg, now.

Lujon stared, then shook his head, managing to look a little ashamed. "Ah… I'm sorry, I didn't know. Must have been… I mean…"

"It's all right, dear. At least he didn't call you a cripple." Lust purred, weaving her fingers together.

Guts grinned back, mirthless. "Yeah. Good of him, huh?" He dropped his cuff back down, and put his leg on the floor. "Shit happens in war." He said to Lujon, who had grace enough to stop talking, and busy himself with collecting the empty plates.

"Ah. Really, no insult meant. I was just surprised…" Lujon said, placing the plates next to the sink.

"Well, I'm sure the two of you have a lot to talk about. I feel the need for some fresh air. Would you care to join me, Puck?"

Finally free of the teacup, the little sprite wrung his wings out, as he stared at her. "Me? Ah, uh, I mean…" He looked over at the nervous Lujon, and the grinning form of Guts.

Guts gave a slight nod. _Whatever she's doing, it's probably no danger to Puck._

Puck relaxed slightly. "Yeah, sure… You'll have to carry me, though. Can't fly with my wings this soggy."

She scooped him up in one crooked arm, and made her way out the door without a backwards glance.

Leaving Lujon and Guts looking at each other, sitting in awkward silence…

-

"What the heck was that all about?" Puck yelled, pulling himself to his full six-inch height, at the same time forgetting that he was standing on slick pseudo-leather sleeves.

"Whoop-whoa!" He flailed, and grabbed onto new purchase, before falling to the ground. Then he looked up, as whatever he was gripping wobbled, and realized just what he was hanging onto.

Lust didn't break stride, reaching up a hand to grasp him, and gently tug his hands away from her neckline.

"I needed to get out of his sight. I can't remove the poison with him watching, or I would have to explain it. It's simpler this way."

"Simpler? That poor guy loves you! And you just broke his heart?"

"Love is a human conceit. It doesn't exist, it's just an excuse for weak-minded fools that are afraid of being lonely."

"WHAT?"

"It's an excuse to gratify animal instincts, and get someone on your side who will ignore your pettiness, or lack of ego. End of story."

"You… You honestly believe this…?"

"Believe it? I've seen it for all of my existence, even before I knew what I was. Having a body like this, I've seen the worst that men have to offer. And each one is the same, no matter what lies they told themselves, or others. Men or women, they each drop what they're doing to be beasts at the slightest opportunity, then justify it by excusing their actions with Love."

Puck didn't respond. Still in her hand, she felt his wings flex. Finally, he piped up in a thin, wavering voice.

"But… Lujon's not like that… He's such a nice guy! He wouldn't…"

She sneered.

"Three days. Last year I came to this miserable little village for three days. I did not encourage him. I did not show interest in him, beyond helping him train his alchemical skill. I did not one singlething to lead him on."

"And on the third day, he called off his wedding with his childhood sweetheart, and begged me to stay with him, forever."

Her face hardened, as she recalled the memory.

"Three days. She had known him all her life, and he her. But the second he had the chance, he left her behind, for an inhuman monster in a pretty shell."

"For me."

She heard liquid dripping onto leather, and looked down. Puck was crying, his eyes huge and his lips wavering. The tears were hitting her gloved hand.

"That's… That's so sad…"

She opened her hand, and his now-dry wings buzzed, as he moved up to her shoulder. He cried, the tears running down his legs, and dripping off her shoulder like a gentle morning rain.

She let him sob, as she made her way to the town's well. This time of day, the streets were deserted, all the farmers out in the field.

There were no children out playing today. Fossilitis struck the young first. They would be up in their beds, trying not to move too much.

She leaned over, and looked into the heart of the well. It was mostly dry, there hadn't been much rain, recently. Fortunate, she thought.

"Hey." Puck said, leaning against her neck. His voice was steady again.

"You didn't encourage him back there. And you said you didn't lead him on then, either, right?"

"Not once." Lust murmured, eyes searching for one particular stone.

"You could have, you know. He would've helped you with whatever you needed him for a lot more, right? You could've used him, and thrown him away later."

"Yes. Like I've done before with others, what's your point?"

"Well, you didn't. You didn't have to, so you didn't."

She closed her eyes. "Are you going somewhere with this?"

"I don't think you're a monster. Maybe you used to be, but you weren't to him. Maybe he did see something in you to love. And you can't love monsters."

Lust sighed. Then, her eyes snapped open. "There." She whispered.

"What? But look. Seriously, I think you're too hard on yourself. I think you're afraid that he's right, that you're worth loving. And maybe, just maybe, you're afraid of that. Because if you're not a monster, then all these bad things you've done... You'd have to face them. And I think you'd feel REALLY bad about that."

Lust's eyes opened wide. "Nonsense." She turned her head away, lips set firm.

"Is it? Why?" Puck stood up, hands on his hips, and tugged on her cheek. "Tell me why it's nonsense, c'mon."

Lust looked back at him, then down the well.

"Do you see that discolored stone, near the waterline?"

"What?"

"That stone. Do you see it?"

"Well, yes! What does that-"

Lust threw him down the well.

SPLASH!

Coughing and spluttering, he swam to the surface, flailing as he got a hold on the rocks, and glaring up at the smiling homunculi above him.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT-"

"The poison's behind there, in a sealed sack. It's designed to seep into the water over time, you should be safe as long as you don't open the sack. Move the stone and bring it out… It's at the wrong angle for me to reach from up here."

Grumbling, Puck did what he was told. "Is this it?" He tugged out a small, rotten cloth sack.It was stained an unnatural shade of white.

"Yes. With that gone, the fossilitis will stop spreading, and Lujon will be able to permanently treat the existing cases. Just don't drop it, whatever you do, or the well will be unusable for years."

"Okay! Coming up now..."

"Good." Lust smiled, and turned away from the well…

…To see Lydia standing ten feet from her, a horrified look on her face.

"You." The small, brown-haired girl shook with rage.

"You're the one who brought this disease to us?"

And Lust's arm started to come up, her fingers aligning into their ready positions…


	37. Shattered Dreams

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Damn. Quite a while for this one to arrive... I've been busy lately. Hope this trend breaks, soon... In other news, Brief lemon-alert! If you don't like spicy stories, turn around and walk away from this chapter...

**SOUTHEAST OF CENTRAL, A SMALL VILLAGE**

Lust's fingers curved and flexed, as Lydia stood and shouted at her. It took barely a second to line them up. _One for the heart, one for the throat, one for the brain, she'd barely feel a thing..._

Lust stopped. Her eyes drifted upwards, with a sick certainty...

There was a child in the window. Small, and of indeterminate gender, it watched with fascination at the scene below. It was perhaps eight, and had a bandage covering its scalp.

_Eight. Old enough to talk. Old enough to incriminate._

Well, no matter. If she acted fast enough, it would be easy to kill the child as well. It wasn't like this was the first time she'd ever done it.

No witnesses had been Dante's first rule...

She stopped.

_Dante is gone._

"...Knew you were too good to be true! Everyone thought you were an angel, HE thought you were an angel..."

_She still needs to die... No._

_If she dies, then HE will find out._

She grimaced, and Lydia took it as a sign of weakness. Emboldened, the mousy-haired girl took a firmer grip on her bucket's handle, and moved to stand right in front of the homonculus, screaming into her face.

Lust's scowl deepened. How would the Black Swordsman react to this woman's death? Or the child witness dying, for that matter? She didn't think it would be good. In fact, it might be downright dangerous. At this point, she needed him on her side. Without Gluttony, she was vulnerable to the others, and he was too valuable to discard in this current state of affairs.

She sighed, as Lydia paused for breath, tears streaming down her face.

_Life was a lot more difficult when you couldn't kill all the inconvenient people._

She studied Lydia with violet eyes. _How do I handle this?_

Then, it came to her.

"So." She asked, pitching her voice to the right combination of malice and amusement.

"Did he fuck you?"

Lydia stopped cold, mouth hanging open. Her cheeks reddened, as she froze in shock.

"Hm. I didn't think so. He didn't seem that experienced when he came to me. I had to show him the basics, and even then he was clumsy. But he hasn't touched you since then? He didn't use what I taught him?"

Lydia's eyes glazed over, as the bucket hanging from her hand rattled and shook.

"Heh." Lust turned slightly to the side, and took a half-step, measuring her distance from the well in her peripheral vision. _Perfect._

"He... He wouldn't... He never..." Lydia's voice was soft, vulnerable, and held the sound of a dying dream.

"You never wondered why he called off the wedding? He wanted more, and he knew he couldn't find it with YOU. After he'd had me in every way a man can fuck a woman, how could he settle for a mousy, flat-chested, plain little nothing like y-"

CLANG!

Lust smiled to herself, as Lydia's bucket struck her in the side of the head. She let herself go with the momentum and fall, at just the right angle-

There was a crunching noise, as her head struck the side of the stone well, and everything went black.

She woke up to find Puck standing in front of her face, with his arms crossed. He was tapping his foot.

"What did you do to her?" He demanded.

"I'm the one who just died, and you're asking ME what I did to her?" Her lips curved into an ironic smirk, as she sat up and popped her neck back into place.

"Yeah, right! You can heal back when you die, but that girl was in tears! She was sobbing over your body when I made it outta the well, like her heart was busted!"

"It probably was. Humans are fragile that way, amazing what you can do with words. Where is she now?"

"She ran away screaming when she saw me."

"She SAW you?" Lust raised an eyebrow.

"Some people can. Especially when they're really shaken... Whatever it was you did, why'd you do it to that poor kid?"

"That 'poor kid' heard me talking to you about the poison. I needed her out of the picture, before she brought the whole village down on me. Fortunately, it's early enough that most of the town's out in the fields... Speaking of the poison, where is it?"

"I tucked it in the fork of the tall tree out by the road. The leaves are hiding it right now... What do we do with it?"

Lust rubbed the back of her head, feeling slick blood drying in her hair. She smeared it carefully, getting as much of it on her glove as she could. The living fabric would devour the blood, clearing away all incriminating traces and gaining nourishment from it.

"Wait until nightfall, then take it out and burn it. As long as you don't open the bag, you'll be in no danger."

"What about that girl?"

"She thinks she's killed me, and she's run off to deal with that. After seeing you, she probably thinks she's mad. Once she sees me walking around again, she'll doubt her sanity even more. By the time she works up her courage to do something, we'll be long gone."

Lust kept her voice low, and started picking her way out of the town square. Puck followed, buzzing along behind her with his arms crossed.

"I still feel bad for her. You didn't see her crying."

"Do you know why she was spying on me, to begin with?"

"Uh, no. She was spying on you?"

"She was Lujon's original fiancee. The one I told you about, the one he dumped."

"Oh... That... No wonder she was screaming at you. What did you DO to her?"

"I lied. Now she's convinced that Lujon will never love her, because she isn't good enough."

She didn't see the slap coming. Placing a hand to her suddenly-stinging cheek, she looked down at a suddenly shaking Puck, wings beating furiously as he hovered next to her head.

"HOW COULD YOU! THAT'S... THAT'S THE WORST... THAT'S THE WORST THING I'VE EVER HEARD!"

Violet eyes narrowed. "I rather doubt that. The other option was to kill her."

"You did worse than kill her. You killed her dream."

Lust looked away, and up at the child in the window, still watching the scene below with wide eyes. The child giggled as she looked at it, and ducked under the window sill.

"That dream died long ago." Her voice was low, and full of an odd sadness. Puck stilled, the rage in his face smoothing out, bit by bit.

"I simply put the nail in its coffin."

And with no further words, the two made their way back down the road.

-

Guts leaned back, and rolled his cup of tea around with one hand, watching the liquid slosh inside the cup with the eye of the truly bored.

_How long is she gonna make me wait?_ He wondered. Lust had been gone for over half an hour now.

_At least Puck's keeping an eye on her._

But without Puck's reinforcement, Guts was being put through one of the toughest challenges he'd had, since he came to this place. And he had to face it alone.

A fight, he could have handled. A band of brigands would have been easy to spot coming. But this was far worse...

Small talk, with a suspicious, jealous stranger.

"So, where did you meet her?"

"Hm?" Guts started to raise his tea again, then put it down. He'd drunk so much that his kidneys felt like they were rolling on the ocean.

"I was just wondering where you two had met..." Lujon smiled, but it came out looking more like a grimace.

_The hell's his problem?_ Guts kept his face smooth. "Central." He said, and downed the rest of the tea in one gulp.

"Central. Hm, I've never been myself. Have you been there often?"

"Only once."

"Oh, well... What was your favorite part of it?"

"Leaving it. Hey, which way to the outhouse?"

Lujon pointed, his eyes distant and far away. Guts retreated, to take care of business.

After a good piss, he scrubbed his hands with sand, and leaned against the wall of the shack. Furrowing his brow, he considered the situation again.

_Why did she tell him I was her husband?_

_It's the stupid kind of game that nobles play. I don't have time for this shit._

He sat back down, and decided to give it another five minutes, before he went back._ I really don't need to waste time with this guy. This is her goddamn side trip, SHE can..._

He heard familiar voices, outside. _Finally!_ He thought to himself, as he reached toward the door.

"It was cruel." That was Puck, sure enough.

"It was necessary. And she'll get over it, like she should have long ago."

His hand froze, on the outhouse handle. _What had she done?_

"She's gonna go tell Lujon. What happens then?"

"He won't believe her. All I have to do is deny everything. And by the time it matters, we'll be long gone."

"I hope so. Guts is really worried about Caska, the sooner we find her the better."

"So it would seem... I wonder..."

Guts shifted, keeping still.

"Lujon was obsessed with me, and still is, though I do not return his 'love'. Lydia was obsessed with Lujon, and still is, though he did not return her 'love'. Humans seem to enjoy using love as an excuse, when obsession is the real driving force."

"Uh... I'm not sure what you're getting at here."

"Just this. Does Caska return Guts' love, or is she simply his own obsession?"

Guts froze, his eye wide open. He bit his tongue, keeping an angry yell from escaping. _Of course she loves me! She's just..._ An image of Caska as she was in her arms flashed through his mind, to be swiftly replaced by Caska, mad and shying away from him in terror.

_She's... Just..._

"That's... that's not true!" Puck wailed.

"I didn't say it was, I merely raised the question. Yet you seem to be overly defensive against the idea. Are you sure it's not true?"

"Listen, lady, I've seen him cut down hordes of horrible creatures to defend her! He's saved her time and time again, and he's never stopped looking for a way to get rid of her madness! She wouldn't be alive if it weren't for him..."

"But does she return his love?"

Guts closed his eye.

"No." He whispered.

"Well... Uh..." Puck said. "She's kind of nuts right now..."

"It's no big deal." She said.

"Just another reminder of how flawed humans can be. Come on, we've left them alone long enough."

"It's... I'm really sure it's not like that..." The voices faded. Guts listened to Lust's footsteps as she made her way up the path, back to Lujon's house.

Leaving Guts sitting on the outhouse seat, staring at the warped remnants of the door's handle in his clenched fist.

In time, he rose and made his way back to the others and Lujon, keeping silent through the rest of the day.

-

That night, he rose to leave. Lust caught his arm, and he stiffened at the touch, but let her hand remain. _Can't say anything, Lujon's watching._

"We'd better go, if we want to set up camp." He reminded her.

"Surely you're not heading out into the night?" Lujon said, concern overtaking his petty jealousy. "I've got a spare room, it's no trouble at all if you want to stay over..."

"Don't want to put you out." Muttered Guts, glancing down at Lust and removing her hand with exaggerated care. She shook her head slightly, and pointedly shifted to turn away from the door. He glared back, then calmed his face and glanced back over to Lujon. "Which way to the inn?" _Okay, so we're staying. Still don't want to stay under this twerp's roof..._

"We don't have an inn here, this town's far off the regular roads. Really, it's no trouble at all..."

"We'll take it." Lust interrupted, before Guts could belt out a refusal.

"All right..."

-

The room had only one bed. Shrugging, Guts unlimbered his equipment, and rolled his cloak into a pillow. Shrugging out of his shirt, he stretched out on the floor.

_At least it's dry._

Puck had left to go take care of the poison, promising to return once it was burned away. And after that's done, we can get out of this crummy town. Guts thought, settling himself in to get comfortable. The floor groaned underneath his weight, and he winced. _Old house. I'll be waking with every little creak._

Then Lust's pale face filled his vision, as she knelt over him with about a foot separating their noses. A spray of ebony hair fell across his face, and he shook his head slightly to keep it out of his eye. His eye drifted over, to trace the line of her cleavage, practically falling out of her dress... _No, dammit. Focus!_

"What are you doing?" She murmured.

He glared back. "Trying to get some sleep. What's your problem now? Bed not fluffed enough?"

"Keep your voice down." Her eyes flicked toward the door. "You toss and turn while you sleep."

"Yeah, so?"

"This floor creaks. If you sleep on the floor, he'll be able to tell. And the thought that we're not sleeping together... that might encourage him."

"So what? What's that matter to me, this is your problem."

"If I give him any encouragement, any at all, he's likely to chase after us."

Guts frowned. "Why would he do that?"

She scowled. "I know how men's minds work. He's fixated on me, and won't let go." _And he looks so much like HIM..._ her mind added silently. She killed the thought.

Guts sighed. "Shit."

"Stay up and watch me if you must, I know you're used to going without sleep."

"Alright. Fine, I'll take the bed." Grunting, he levered himself up, and settled into the old four-poster. Wrapping the homemade quilt around himself, he leaned back and sighed. It was pretty comfortable.

_Gotta admit, it's been a while since I've had a bed. This is pretty nice. _He rested his head in his flesh hand, and turned on his side. "Blow out the candle, would ya?" He yawned, as behind him the candlelight disappeared and smoke wafted from the extinguished wick.

Then, he heard shifting. Cloth sliding across skin. _What?_ He started to turn, and saw Lust standing in front of the moonlit window, sliding her gloves off. She set her hands to her bodice, and he whipped his head back around, as it started to slide down...

"He...hey!" He remembered to keep his voice low. "What are you doing?"

"I already told you." She said. "If he hears one of us moving around on the floor, he'll be encouraged. Now slide over."

This was too much. "Look, If you think I'm gonna-"

He felt the covers whip off his back, and started to twist around. He froze, as he felt soft, warm flesh press along his side. A cloud of ebony hair settled around his face, and cool breath traced along his neck.

"You need a bath." Lust observed, murmuring the words a scant few inches from his ear.

"I had one in Liore." He muttered, desperately trying not to think about what was pressing into his upper back.

Trying not to think about...

It was no use, and he shifted. Leather trousers were good at keeping your legs dry, but they were entirely too tight at all the wrong times. He struggled to keep his composure.

"Strange. You're not yelling about me touching you."

She traced a finger along his rib cage, and THAT was enough. Growling, he caught her hand in his own, crushing the fingers with an iron grip.

"Don't you play your damn games with me!" He seethed, turning to face her in the dim room. "I don't like you, I don't trust you, and if you think I need you, you're wrong. I made my own way before I met you, and I can do just fine without you. You're starting to piss me off, and if you screw me over, I'll..."

Her eyes were calm. "Funny you should mention screwing." He froze, as her other hand moved beneath the covers, stroking.

"It doesn't matter to me one way or the other..." She rolled back, her breasts settling and bobbing in front of his agonized eye.

"But you seem to want me, at least your body does. If it will settle you down, I don't mind. Go ahead."

"..." He stared down along her body, as she drew the covers aside. At the large, dark nipples on her perfect pale breasts, on the curve of her hip, and the dusky patch of hair between her slowly spreading marble thighs.

He turned his head aside. "You're... not... human." But the excuse was feeble, even to him. He remembered the female disciple, years ago. How she'd hidden her monstrous form under a human guise, and he couldn't get near her without cutting through a wall of fooled innocents. How he'd pretended to be seduced by her, and let her haul him off into the woods one night.

He could've killed her then, but he let his body talk, and had his way with her before she'd turned into a monster under him. And how he killed her, while he was still inside her.

_How long has it been, since then?_ He wondered. It felt like a lifetime ago, and his balls were telling him that it was...

"I know." She whispered, in his ear. "I'm a mockery, nothing more than a doll of flesh and bone made to look human. That's why it doesn't matter. No love, no meaning, no children or problems to deal with. Just Lust. Now either fuck me or go to sleep, because I'm not leaving this bed."

For a long minute, he considered her.

_Caska...?_ He thought, and let the memories run through his mind.

He'd never touched Caska after... After she'd gone mad. It would have been like raping a child. There was that one time that he'd come close...

_That wasn't me! It was the spirits!_ His hand tightened on Lust's wrist, and bones snapped. She narrowed her eyes, but did nothing. Guts didn't notice, still lost in thought.

_I love Caska._ He knew, and knew it was true. _It's not obsession, I'm just her best chance at... At living. Not some life of madness, either. And maybe she loves me or maybe she doesn't, I don't know. If it turns out I'm wrong, then I'll deal with that when it comes_.

He looked back at Lust, and let go of her wrist. She twisted it to the side, and the bones snapped back with audible cracks.

Now that he'd had time to think, things made more sense.

"Well?" She asked, one hand dipping between her legs. Quiet, wet noises filled the room, as she pumped her fingers rhythmatically.

"You want to fuck me, so that Lujon will hear."

She shrugged. "I imagine he will. What does it matter?"

"You want to convince him that it's hopeless. You and him."

She rolled her head away from him, turning around abruptly, and using her hands to pull the covers up.

"So what?"

"So, all right."

"What?"

"Let's go."

She looked back at him, as he shifted back, and stripped his trousers off, one-handed. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

He glared at her, throwing the pants aside, and drawing her to him with his free hand. Grabbing her shoulder, he shifted her underneath him and slammed himself into her with no foreplay or prelude. He tightened his thighs as she gasped and spread herself wider, shifting to accomodate him as he thrust.

"Because... It's been forever for me, and because I don't love you, and you don't love me."

"And you need this, or you can't leave this place behind. Not with things left open."

He twisted, and she shuddered, clenching herself around his cock, stroking it with her muscles.

"That's all."

"Ah." She whispered, then wrapped her arms around his waist, grabbing his back, and urging him on. Her breasts shuddered and heaved with every thrust, nipples dancing along his chest like caressing fingers.

There were no more words then, for quite a while.

Afterwards, he slept, rolled away from her on the bed. She stayed awake, watching him with expressionless violet eyes.

She watched Puck peek inside the window, take one look, and fly away, shaking his head. _Wise._ She decided.

And in the deep of the night, she heard a dry sobbing coming from the downstairs room. Another dream shattered.

Lust smiled.

-

They left in the morning. Lujon said perhaps three words over breakfast, and didn't walk them to the road.

Guts, in a better mood than he'd been in a long time, glanced over to Lust. "So, the southern road is what we need?"

She nodded back. "It will take us to Dublith. That's where we should be able to find what we need, to fight the others."

As they strolled Puck flew down from a fir tree, to join them, eyes huge and glancing between the two of them, before sighing in relief. Business as usual! Good, I was worried...

Violet eyes caught the sprite's own. "Is it..."

"Taken care of, burned right up." Puck's own eyes narrowed. "I, uh, had to stay there all night to watch the fire, make sure it didn't burn the woods."

Lust nodded, and Puck watched Guts' back loosen up slightly. _Yeah, that works._

"Dublith." Guts tested the word. "After that, we'll have to start looking for Caska all over again."

Lust shook her head. "The difference is that you've got me, now. I know who has her, and I know how they work." _Envy, anyway. That new one, Greed..._ She banished the thought.

"You need me, and I need you. At least until she's safe." She said, moving up to keep pace with him.

"Agreed." He said, and the rest of the trip that day was silent.

Leaving Puck fluttering behind the two, watching them walk oh-so-slightly alongside each other, than they had before last night.

_Is this a good thing, or a bad thing?_ He wondered.

In the end, he shook his head and settled on Guts' shoulder.

_It's a thing._ He decided, and that was that.

And the road wound on toward the south...


	38. Sacrifice

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Happy 2007! Things have been hectic, and my muse has been on hiatus. I will try to continue as I can, but do not expect a miracle... At any rate, this is a chapter that's been a long time coming... 

**OUTSKIRTS OF CENTRAL, ISHBALAN REFUGEE CAMP**

Flex.

Release.

Flex.

Release.

The weights went up and down as his arm moved, keeping his hand steady at all times. Sweat rolled down his tan flesh. His tan, untattooed flesh.

Flex.

Release.

Sweat slicked his bandages, the fresh bandages on the stump of what had once been his... No, his brother's right arm.

The stranger had done that. The demon swordsman, with his own arm, a false thing of automail and alchemy.

Scar's lips twisted, as he remembered the showdown in the streets of Eastern. If he had only been a little faster, or the swordsman a little slower...

_It's done._ He shoved the feelings of regret aside, and concentrated on his workout.

But it wasn't done, he knew. Somewhere, the Black Swordsman was still alive. Still helping the dogs that had killed his country.

Shouts and laughter from outside the tent made him raise his eyes, and put a slight smile on his face.

Well, not ALL of his country.

The twitch of the tent flap was the only warning he got, as he dropped the weights and whipped his hand up in front of his face. The leather ball THWACKED into it, as it hurtled in from outside. As the tent's front blanket swung back, he saw the concerned faces of the camp's children, including their ringleader, a young boy of perhaps ten with a gap in his teeth.

The laughter paused as the large man came into sight, and the children looked slightly worried. He was still a stranger to most of them, and he knew that his appearance could be unsettling.

Scar wandered out, and returned the ball with an easy, underhand throw. The kids scrambled for their ball, the laughter washing away their previous fear, and the ringleader scooped it up and gave him a friendly wave. Scar waved back, as he headed to the river to wash. Along the way, he passed women setting up the noonday laundry, men returning with what food they could scavenge from the city, and more children playing games. He paused to watch a young family putting up a new shelter, watched as they faltered and their neighbors moved in without a word, steadying their falling tent and using their own supplies to help build the shelter properly.

He hid a smile behind his red eyes.

_As long as the people remain, and we help each other as people do, Ishbal yet survives._

_These are my people..._

And he was filled with pride.

He watched the children laugh, and the ball go flying again.

_I could stop_, he thought.

The stump of his right arm throbbed. He grimaced and rubbed it... It was like the arm was still there, still hurting. He could feel its phantom fingers clench, and nonexistant wounds bleed.

_No_. He thought.

_No, I cannot stop._

He watched the ball roll into the river, and the children wade in as one of the women on laundry duty shouted at them, and waved her stick in their direction.

The pain eased, and he closed his eyes.

_Well. My cause is just, at least. They are worth fighting for. THIS is worth fighting for._

And leaving the happy settlement to its business, Scar retreated to the darkness of his tent...

---

"What are you doing?" The Elder asked, his hand still holding the curtain open. Scar looked up at him with a steady gaze, meeting his eyes without hesitation. This one was bald, and a single mustache was his only concession to facial hair. He was not the oldest of the elders, but he had shown his wisdom the few times Scar had heard him wield his authority. The rumors whispered that he had been a warrior, one of the few to survive the war with Amestris. Scar liked him.

The Elder was also reasonable, perhaps too much so. If he knew what Scar was setting out to do...

"Nothing that concerns you, or the camp." Scar replied. With his remaining hand, he tucked the wrapped burden away in the pack, and started to fold the carrying flap over it.

The Elder moved into the tent, and flipped the pack open. Scar did not stop him, as the older man uncovered the package in the middle, and unwrapped the oiled cloth from around it. Metal gleamed.

It was called a Parangu, in the tongue of Ishbal. A little over a foot of thick blade, folded over and sharpened to lengths that would make a razor envious. Attached to a simple wooden hilt, it was a weapon made for chopping, without finesse or decoration. It was heavy, and that was what Scar was counting on. Heavy meant momentum, meant that a one-armed man could let the weapon do much of the work, once it got moving.

The Elder turned it over, tested the edge with his calloused thumb, and sighed. He put it back.

"We know who you are. What you have done."

Scar started, hid his reaction, but not fast enough. The Elder nodded. "Yes, you are the Alchemist Killer. The Avenger. You were in Eastern last, and now you are here. A painful and legend-worthy journey, for someone with such a grievous wound."

Scar started to shrug, then grimaced as his armless shoulder gave a throb of pain.

The Elder shook his head. "But the time for vengeance is done. This is the time of survival now. Every Ishbalan must buckle down and learn patience, or we will not survive."

"I cannot be patient." The words sounded from him like the peal of an iron bell. "Not while the state alchemists still walk."

"You are of Ishbal. You have a duty! You are strong, and you can yet work, yet help our people. You must survive, and raise children, that our way will not perish during..."

"Children!" Scar burst out, unexpected anger rising within him. "Do not make me laugh, old man! What woman would love this wrecked body-"

"More would than you think." The Elder said simply, and Scar closed his mouth, regretting his rudeness. The Elder continued. "Your bravery during the war was seen, and there are enough who know and approve of your actions afterward, no matter if they were wrong or right. Your injury only means that you must find other ways of doing a man's work. It only takes one arm to embrace a woman, or one hand to lift a newborn's face to the sun in praise of Ishvara."

And for a second, Scar saw it. Saw a life where the world was calmer, and tents were forsaken to build new houses. He saw the resettlement of the arid lands to the East, and crowds of Ishbalans, young and old alike working new fields, raising new herds of animals. He saw lives being built anew, and smiling children laughing as mother called them home to dinner, and father returned from the fields.

And then he saw HER face, in the place of the mother. And his brother's face, in the place of the father. And he knew that he had no place in this... He never did, even before the war.

Scar looked down upon his remaining hand, and made a fist. Finally, he took the Parangu back from the elder, who let it go with a sigh. Rewrapping it, Scar slid it inside the pack, and hoisted it to his back with easy strength.

"I cannot let this go." He said, and knew it was right. "I cannot forget the ones who are gone..." The TWO who are gone, his inner voice whispered, and he ignored its truth.

"You have already done enough."

"I do this not for myself, but for those who cannot." Scar said, and that was the truth of it, he felt it in his bones.

The Elder closed his eyes. "Very well. I do not approve of this, but I will not stop you. Know that you always have a home, here."

Scar closed his own eyes, and turned away. "...Thank you." He said, finally, after a minute had passed.

And then he left, before the Elder could see the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

---

TWO HOURS LATER

"Have a nice day, Lieutenant Colonel." The secretary smiled her bland smile, as the officer collected his coat.

"You know, I believe that I will." Hughes smiled, and left.

A full minute or two went by, her typewriter clattering its stacatto beat. Then it stilled, as she glanced toward the open door of the main office.

The Fuhrer stood before the closed window, his back to her, looking down on the parade ground. He did not look around as she left her desk to join him.

"What did he have to say?" Sloth asked.

Pride smiled.

"Less than he knew."

Sloth nodded. "Then he was the one examining the phone lines."

"Without a doubt."

"He is getting too close. We should deal with him."

"We could do that." Pride moved over to his desk, considering his phone for a moment. "It would have been the first order out of Dante's mouth, if she had been around for this situation."

Sloth narrowed her eyes. She could not say why, but she felt a burst of irritation at being compared to Dante.

"You disagree with my assessment?"

"Not at all. He IS getting too close." Pride turned, a broad smile under his mustache, and his visible eye closed. "Which is why he will not find the whole picture, until I have made his entire exercise a moot point."

"What do you mean?"

"There are key elements missing, that will not surface. Dante is gone, and without her the entire puzzle will not make sense. Not to Hughes, and his methodical logic. It will take him at least two months to start putting together a working hypothesis, and he will take another two before he dares to level any sort of accusation towards me, personally. I am in my place of power here, and he simply has no proof."

"Why do you call it a moot point?"

Pride tilted his head, considering her. "I am working with Colonel Mustang, bringing him under my influence. There is a part of him that believes implicitly in hierarchy, that seeks to earn the approval of those above him, and to rise to the top. He hides it well, but my Eye is not fooled. By the time Hughes brings him his theory, he will consider me beyond reproach. The case will be dismissed, and by that time we will have other matters for Hughes and his branch to investigate."

Sloth looked away, out the window to the drilling soldiers below. "You are forgetting something."

"I think not."

"What of me?" She asked. "I am involved in this as well. He could uncover evidence implicating me in one crime or another. And while Mustang might not believe that you are guilty, he would be willing to think that perhaps I was the one at the center of the web."

Pride's smile had faded by now. "It is a possibility. One that I have considered. I have already found a solution that does not compromise your position."

Sloth's lips thinned. "And you did not think to consult with me on this answer? That perhaps I might have something to offer to protect myself?"

Pride stared at her, his eye cold. "Tell me. How did Lust escape you?"

Sloth stared back. "I told you. The warrior kept me off-balance until they were gone."

"Yes, you did tell me that." Pride turned back to the window.

"I am not lying." She said to his back.

"I know. But I wonder if a part of you did not wish to let her go."

"..." Sloth ground her teeth. "I-"

BOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!

The two sins stared, as a cloud of smoke rose from the western quarter!

The Fuehrer's phone rang, and Sloth snatched it up. She listened carefully, then looked up at Pride. "It's the alchemist killer. He tried to kill the Silver alchemist, but fled after being wounded."

"Who is in pursuit?"

"Lieutenant Colonel Archer."

"Join him. Be my eyes in this, and redeem yourself for Lust's escape."

Sloth shot him a glare, even as she picked up the phone again. And the pillar of smoke in the distance rose to stain the noontime sun a dirty black...

---

_Stupid, stupid, STUPID!_

Scar bowled over a gawking bystander, as he ran full-tilt down the street. There were yells, and there were babbled questions, as people pointed and stared at the fire burning two blocks away.

The first part had been easy. He had gone to the Alchemist's house during the first shift of the day, when Central's factories were pulling in workers, and the streets were flooded with laborers. Many of them immigrants and some of them had hideous disfigurements from the unsafe machinery they worked with. Even a one-armed Ishbalan drew no comment.

Slipping out of the crowd and into the better part of the city was tricky, but it had been two weeks since the trouble at the palace, and things had quieted down again. The patrols were fewer and far between, and his stealth got him to the back door of the Silver Alchemist's mansion.

He had figured that the staff would be busy preparing lunch, but had found the kitchen empty! That had been the first thing gone wrong. He managed to subdue the two servants, but not before the maid screamed. Fearful, she told him that the Silver Alchemist had been visiting a friend that morning. He cursed his luck, and locked the servants in the pantry. He'd done his best to set up an ambush, but the Silver Alchemist had returned before he could finish his preparations.

The fight... Did not go well. For an old man, the alchemist had been surprisingly spry.

And his blades...

Scar staggered, leaning against a building for a long moment, then leaving a bloodstain against it when he moved on.

One blade had creased his stomach, opening a gash that was still seeping blood.

Another blade had come within a hair's breadth of decapitating him. If he hadn't ducked...

But the third blade, the third blade had been cruelest of all.

"There he is!" The yell came from behind him, and he risked a glance backward. A group of men in military blues had rounded the corner, guns levelled. Scar cursed, and ducked down the alley, ramming through a knot of off-shift workers.

"Hey, watch it pal!" One of them grabbed at his cloak as he passed, and gasped as the cloak came off...

...Revealing a bloody stump at the end of his left arm.

The third blade had taken Scar's hand.

The men gasped and fell back, the soldiers yelled and tried to push through the crowd, and Scar ran on against the agony.

And on his chest, unnoticed, a small rock-like lump stirred, and opened one eye.

Soon, now...

---

SOME TIME LATER

He awoke to dim light, filtered through leather flaps.

_Tent... Not mine?_

Without moving his head, he shifted his eyes left, then right.

His wrist had been bandaged. And he remembered... The pain came new then, and it was all he could do not to scream. But more than the pain, it was the shame that beat down upon him, the knowledge that he had failed, and forever lost his chance at vengeance.

"I tell you, we cannot take the risk." The voice came from the tent's entrance. His eyes slid over. _That voice sounds familiar_.

"He is one of us." That was the youngest elder, the one with the mustache. With that, the other voice fell into place, and when a third one spoke up, he knew.

"He is a mad dog. We have shown him pity, and he brings this upon us."

_It was a council of the Elders. But who... Wait. They were speaking of him!_

"He is an Ishbalan, not a dog! He is our brother-"

"His brother was an outcast, and he is a murderer! We will be better off without him!"

Scar's lips thinned. _They could not possibly be considering..._

"You did not say this when he came to us for shelter the first time!" That was the young elder. The only voice so far that had spoken in his favor.

"I did not say it because I pitied him! That poor wreck could do nothing more, I thought. But evidently he has not the brains of a dog, to try something like this... To bring THIS to us..."

Scar's teeth clenched. _How could they say this?_

"Hafiz is perhaps a little vehement, but his suggestion is still sound."

_Suggestion? What did they intend?_

"How can you suggest this? Giving him up to the soldiers would be bad enough, but this... This is against Ishvara's own law."

"Look outside! The soldiers are circling this camp! They know he is here... And you know what they will do to him, if we hand him over."

"And YOU know what they will do to ALL of us if we do not."

There was a long pause. Then the young elder spoke up again.

"You say that we should kill him, before we give him over to the Amestrians."

Scar's eyes snapped open wide. _Kill him? But it was against every law of Ishvara! Brother shall never raise hand against brother..._

"Hamal... What other way is there? We must survive. We have women and children here... Do you know what the soldiers will do?"

Another long silence. Then the angry voice spoke.

"It would almost be a mercy. Look at him! One arm gone, and the other arm handless. What can he do? Who would care for him?"

Scar closed his eyes, and the room seemed to fade, and grow fuzzy around the edges. He fought off the agony and tried to shake off the fuzz from his vision... _Can't sleep now, I might not wake up._

"I do not like this."

"None of us do."

The strange fuzziness would not leave his vision, and Scar's pain faded. But he was not sleepy... In fact, he found himself rising to his feet.

_What?_ He thought. And then he felt warmth on his chest. Looking down, he saw something pulsing above his heart. He reached for it with fingers that he didn't have, and almost sobbed in frustration.

But then, his shirt moved of its own accord. Rustled. And from within the folds, a green, stonelike object wormed out, hanging from its thong around his neck.

The stone that he'd stolen from the swordsman.

_But it wasn't a stone, was it?_

_It was an egg._ And he did not know how he knew this, just knew it was so.

"Come and play!"

What was that? He looked up. He could still hear the elders discussing his fate in the next room of the tent, but it was muted, faded. This voice sounded like it was right next to him.

"Come and play!" A tug, on his... hand? What?

He looked down. A somehow familiar child, who hadn't been there ten seconds ago, was pulling on the air where his hand had been... And his arm moved in response! He gasped, and felt his phantom hand squeeze of its own accord... And the child grinned.

"You have to follow now, or you can't play." And he finally recognized the child.

"Bro... Brother?" He rasped, from a dry throat. The child let go of his hand, and laughed.

"My brother!" The voices from the other room had stilled, but he ignored that as his brother, somehow alive again and eight years old, shoved the tent flap aside and ran out into the light.

Scar followed, lurching after him, his head swimming... Somewhere, there was singing, and from around his neck the stone pulsed in time with his heart.

Around him, the inhabitants of the camp were gathered in clusters, discussing nervously in hushed tones. They shut up as he passed, practically falling down the hillside. They stared with fearful eyes as he ran after the child that only he saw. And the light was fuzzy, strange. Distorted...

"Brother!" He cried, and sobbed as his feet left the shore, and followed the boy out into the river. The child ran on top of the water somehow, but he didn't stop to think or care about it. His brother was back! He was alive!

"No." Said the child, stopping and turning to look at him.

"I'm dead."

"Brother... No, you're..." Scar panted, sweat dripping into the muddy water as he stood.

Around him, the clusters of Ishbalans looked at each other, and at the line of troops, marching towards the camp with slow, malevolent step. The refugees nodded, and started to pick up the rocks scattered around the riverbank.

"I'm dead, and I'm sad, because you never avenged me, Brother."

Scar sobbed, tears running down from red, red eyes. Below him, on his shirt, the egg cried as well. Tears of blood oozed down him, inching towards the river...

"I... I tried. I tried so hard..."

"Look, brother! They want to kill you!"

Scar turned a heavy head, and saw the people, his people, picking their way down to the river with stern expressions and rocks in their hands.

"No. They... The first command of Ishvara. Do not kill your brother..."

"Look at them! They're afraid of you! After all you've done, they'll do this to you!"

The first stone arced toward him, and he watched it go wide with disbelieving eyes.

"They are no longer people!"

Scar stood mute, as more stones splashed around him. One bounced off his wrapped arm, sending waves of pain up his side.

"Ishbal is dead! And these are all that are left! They are NOT Ishbalans. They are not people. They are only fearful beasts that have given up everything that makes them human."

Scar sunk to his knees in the river, and the stone touched water. The crimson pool started to spread around him...

"But you can change this. You can still avenge me. You can still avenge Ishbal."

A stone missed his head by inches. Doused in bloody water, Scar felt his strength ebbing. The pain of his body was as nothing, compared to the pain in his heart. "How?" He whispered.

"Sacrifice them. Say it, and you will be restored. Say it, and you will be remade. Say it, and you WILL be the Hand of Vengeance you wished to be!"

"Say it, and set the Hand of God upon this world!"

Scar frowned. God? He looked at his brother, and saw his image rippling, fading. There was something else underneath his brother's ghost, and it was hideous...

Then a stone caught him on the forehead, and he toppled into the water, feeling pain pound through his skull. He coughed, and felt water slide down his throat.

_I'm dying._ He knew with sudden clarity.

Even lying underwater, he could still hear his brother's voice. But it wasn't his brother, was it?

"Sacrifice!"

Then red obscured his vision, when it cleared the egg around his neck was drifting upwards, revolving in front of his eyes. It had both eyes open now, and its lumpy features had arranged into a face. A face crying, mourning the state of the world. Crying blood...

Scar sighed, the air bubbling out of him.

With his last breath as a human, he said one word.

"Sacrifice."

---

Lieutenant Colonel Archer lowered his binoculars, and smiled in satisfaction. "Well. They're saving us a trial."

Sloth, changed from a secretary's outfit to military fatigues, nodded as she watched the stones rain down upon the river. The large, maimed man staggered and fell, and a pool of red started to bubble up from underneath the water.

"Pathetic."

Archer nodded. "So easily they turn on their own. Not that they'd have a chance of saving him from us." He turned to the thirty soldiers, assembled in three loose ranks. "Squad, move down there. Take charge of the camp, secure the body, and shoot anyone who resists - wait, what is that?"

The afternoon light was darkening.

He glanced up. The sun... Something was starting to cover the sun!

"What?" He muttered.

"An eclipse." Sloth muttered. "Ignore that. What's happening to the river?"

"There's no eclipse today-" Archer broke off, and stared. The river was... He raised the binoculars.

"The river is filling with blood." He said, horrified.

The Ishbalans scrambled back, dropping their stones and wailing. His soldiers halted their advance, and were looking around as the sky turned dark. One or two had dropped to their knees, vomiting.

"Form up!" Archer yelled. "Form up, and follow orders!"

The sun was covered, and a reddish hue filtered down as black clouds, masses of shadow, rolled over Central.

"Form..." Archer staggered back, as the ground RIPPLED. As the tents dissolved, leaving startled refugees and panicking soldiers equally confused.

Sloth felt something shift under her feet, and looked down. At her gasp, Archer looked down himself.

The ground underfoot was turning into round, half-buried things. Things with features... faces, twisted in agony.

"Ggggh..." Sloth clutched her belly, and leaned over. Sweat rolled down her face, as her face rippled. And then, she straightened up, panting. Archer shrunk back. The look in her eyes...

"I feel... Good." Sloth muttered, rubbing her face in a caress. And a red glow lit her eyes, as she looked toward the horizon.

And as Archer followed her gaze, he saw the familiar buildings of Central dissolved away, to be replaced with a flat, unending plain of faces... Faces that now opened their mouths, and screamed in thunderous agony...


	39. Eclipse

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Reading through the comments on the last chapter, I am both flattered and amused. Thank you so much for your kind words! I only wish my muse were more active on this story.**  
**Anyway, it's been a while... No promises on the next chapter... I wrote this one before I went inactive for a bit, and am posting it here because I found it when I was cleaning my hard drive.**  
**I'll resume if I can, but no promises.**

**CENTRAL, MILITARY HEADQUARTERS**

The Fuhrer put down his cup of tea. The shadow on his desk had tripled, in a matter of seconds. _Why was the light shrinking?_

Fuhrer Bradley stood, and looked out the window, to see the unthinkable sight of the sun being swallowed by darkness.

Strange, he thought. The astronomers predicted no eclipse today. We're not due one for a year and 12 days. The frown on his face lengthened. Someone had done sloppy work, evidently. He hated sloppiness, and made a mental note to reduce funding to Central's astronomy department.  
Then he blinked. The thing sliding between the sun and the Earth...

"That's no moon." He said, surprised.

It was dark and somewhat round, but to his enhanced eyesight the contours were all wrong. And instead of amplifying the leading edge of the absorbed sun, it seemed to be drawing the light into itself.

Strange.

Fuhrer Bradley moved his hand over to his eyepatch, and peeled it back.

And Pride stared long and hard into the abyss...

**CENTRAL, WEST QUARTER COMMAND POST**

The staff car took the corner and slowed down to a crawl, without stopping. From the front gate of the command post, a dark-haired man wearing Colonel's insignia struggled with his jacket, finally getting it on as the car stopped with its door open. With an awkward shrug, he slid the sleeves on properly as he hopped inside the car, looking entirely graceless as he struggled to shut the door. "This had better be good Lieutenant, your message didn't say much at all."

"It's bad, sir." The driver said, speeding up again and keeping her blue eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"How bad, Hawkeye?"

Lieutenant Hawkeye twisted to avoid a pair of pointing pedestrians. "They've got Scar."

Colonel Mustang raised an eyebrow. "Who does? And how is that bad?"

She moved again, to dodge a vegetable-filled wagon. Its driver was stopped in an intersection, staring up. "Archer."

"That IS bad. Archer will try and execute him on the spot. Hughes needs him to answer some questions before he goes, if we want a shot at uncovering the truth. No help for it, go faster."

"I can't without hitting someone. Sir." She spun the wheel, fishtailing to avoid a pair of screaming schoolgirls.

"Damn! Why is everyone on the street gawking, what are they-" Mustang stopped. He shut his mouth, and tugged on his gloves.

"Lieutenant."

"Sir?"

"Why is night falling in the middle of the afternoon?"

Hawkeye jammed on the brakes, barely avoiding a pile-up with a stalled line of automobiles and pedestrians. People were vacating their cars, edging back as the street ahead seemed to be enveloped by the edge of some sort of spherical dome. A vast shell of blackness, that pulsed with crimson veins, the edge of it had engulfed half a turnip cart when it appeared. The other half of the turnip cart lay on the cobblestones, cut neatly where the dome had severed it.

Mustang couldn't tell, but judging by the way the nearby buildings were leaning, it had sliced through them as well.

"Well." Said Hawkeye. "At a rough guess, THAT has something to do with it. Sir."

"Let me take a one-in-a-million guess. That dome over there, it's about where Archer has Scar?"

"That does seem to be the location that I was told, sir. And about a half a mile around it, if this thing's as big as it looks."

He opened the door, and Hawkeye started to open hers. "No." Mustang shook his head.

"You'll need backup."

"Which is why you're going to go get Armstrong."

"Colonel, I..."

Mustang's face was neutral, but his eyes were hard. "That was an order, Lieutenant."

"Sir, yes sir!" Mustang slid out of the car and shut the door, and Hawkeye reversed, knocking over a nearby waste can as the car sped back the other direction.

And picking his way through the fleeing bystanders, Mustang turned his back as the light faded, and started walking toward the abyss.

**TEN MILES NORTH OF DUBLITH, A FOREST TRAIL**

The swordsman stopped. His eye widened in horror, as he felt the back of his neck rip open. The light was dimming... Darkening much too early.

"Guts?" Puck fluttered in front of him, as the dark-haired woman before him on the trail paused, and looked back.

"We're nearly there." Lust said. "If we want to make it before nightfall, then... She stopped, and looked up.

"Huh. A solar eclipse... Those are rare."

"Eclipse." Guts uttered the word like it was a curse.

"What? What's got... wait. No. OH no..." Puck was floating back, his green hands pressed to his lips, his eyes open wide.

"NO!" Guts roared, sweeping around, displaying the steaming blood spurting down the back of his neck, as he stared into the disappearing sun. His black cloak was turning red, everything was turning red in the dying light...

"Why are you so bothered?" Lust shrugged. "So the moon is in front of the sun. Why is that making you bleed? It's not as if-"

She paused. "-Guh."

Lust doubled over, clutching her stomach, panting. "What? What is this feeling..."

Guts turned his neck, looking at her with his good eye. Narrowing his eye in suspicion, he watched as she leaned against a tree, then slowly looked up, a distracted smile spreading across her face. "I... I feel GOOD."

Guts let his good arm fall to his side, and let a knife slide down into his palm, from under the cloak. He stared hard at Lust, as she shuddered and grinned...

**INSIDE HELL**

The plain was red and black, the ground was bloody and burned faces, stretching as far as the eye could see. A few minutes before, they had been screaming in unison, but now they were silent. Watching. Waiting.  
Archer swallowed hard, and looked toward Sloth.

"What now?" It was a whisper, but it rolled out like thunder. His men looked at him, anxious and sweating. Beyond them, the Ishbalans huddled in a loose mob, half of them on their knees and praying.

Archer's lips twitched. He would not show weakness. Not in front of his men, and especially not in front of the weakling brownskins.

And then, above the plain, the sky seemed to crack open... Five oozing blobs of shadow, each as big as a man on a horse, dripped out of a brilliant crack, oozing across the unnaturally lighted red horizon like rotten egg yolks dripping down a wall. Eyes looked out from within the stains, and it took every mote of courage Archer had to keep from screaming and begging for mercy.

One of his men snapped, and started yelling hoarsely about God and forgiveness. Archer didn't hesitate, he simply drew his pistol and put one in the coward's head. The rest of the soldiers stared at him, shocked, before a horrible, grating voice spoke, from one of the stains.

"Men are ever men, in this world or the next. Painful as it is to project here, you were right, Femto. As soon as our power touched them, their fate was sealed. Causality rules all, and their service shall spread us into this realm."

Another one, a shadow filled with disturbing curves, spoke in a voice that sounded grotesquely female. It was like a continuous moan mixed with a purr, with more than a hint of madness.

"Where is the struggler, Femto? Where is that beautiful, scarred specimen? I see a scarred supplicant, but they are not one and the same."

A third voice sniggered. Chuckling and oily, it sounded like the speaker was both fat and speaking through a throat full of phlegm.

"Thinking with your crotch again, Slan? He'd not be to your taste. Doubtless the struggler has escaped our good hawk AGAIN."

The fourth voice spoke, and it was like the cry of a newborn babe, mixed in with a sighing cough of a man dying from old age.

"Peace, Conrad. Time is short and we are not here for HIM. We have a supplicant among us."

The ground bulged, and Archer stumbled back, his troops following him. On the other side, the Ishbalans screamed in terror and fled, as a massive hand formed out of the flesh of the plain, and hauled a battered, broken form up. Two stories it rose, then four, then finally eight, as the evils above considered the one on it.

Scar.

A glow enveloped the Ishbalan, and Archer lost sight of him in the light. Turning his eyes away, he heard the dark things murmur above. Finally, a voice spoke down from on high... The grating one, the first.  
"You, below. Men of steel and order and pain. Fight and kill, or die. You will die here, unless you render up another's blood. Give it to your new lord... Or find your own blood forfeit."

Archer's eye twitched, as he stared hard at the black, oozing THINGS. Twice he opened his mouth, and shut it just as quickly. This is wrong. Isn't it?

He found himself looking over the Ishbalans. Over their rags, their dirty unwashed forms, their suspicious, heathen red eyes and mud-colored skin. Is it so wrong? It's not like they're people, really.

One of the Ishbalans, a man in his thirties, pushed his way through the crowd and spread his arms wide. He started to speak, and Archer's gun barked, twice. There was a moan of horror from the rest of the Ishbalans, as they backed away. Some of them started to run, and Archer almost laughed. Where could they go? Didn't they understand?

"Kill them!" He ordered. "It's them or us. Kill them all."

And as the guns roared death into the shrieking, unarmed crowd of Ishbalans, blood spilled onto the plain of faces like the ocean's tide returning. And up on the palm of the great hand, a red cocoon bubbled around Scar, and started to wrap him in coagulating, steaming layers...

**THE FOREST TRAIL**

For a long minute, Guts didn't move. Didn't blink. Finally, Lust shook her head, and straightened up. The smile wavered. "This isn't right, is it? It's got an... aftertaste like the ghosts, if that makes any sense."

Guts nodded. Under his cloak, his hand slipped the knife back into its sheath.

"Yeah. This is bad." His eye moved from her, to study the north horizon. "But for once, I ain't in the middle of it."

And Caska isn't either. That thought gave him strength. Gave him hope.

"Whew! Can't say I'm sorry we missed it. If it's like the other one, it'll be gone in an hour or two." Puck plopped himself down on Guts' shoulder, and sighed. Then his brow furrowed. "Still, I wonder what this one's about? The last one was like a big omen for Gri-" He looked at Guts, and shut up. The silence dragged, with Lust's heavy breathing the only sound for a few minutes.

Finally, she shook her head again. "As good as this feels, I mistrust it. Don't we have somewhere to be?"

Guts' lips thinned. "Yeah. You done?"

"This won't keep me from walking. With that much blood loss, are YOU good to travel?"

He felt the back of his neck. The bleeding had settled to a dull, steady pulse that dripped it down his cloak and back like sap oozing from a maple tree. "I'll live. Let's go."

Puck buzzed off his shoulder, as he turned and started walking again.

"Aren't you the least little bit curious about what this is about? What this means?"

"No."

"Why not? Are you that thick? Geeze, can't you see that-"

"It'll come to me. I'll deal with it then."

Puck snorted, and fell back to the end of the line.

And the three of them picked their way through the forest path, as the darkness stretched forth greedy hands through the northern sky...


End file.
